The Weight is a Gift
by Lila2
Summary: Everyone has to grow up sometime, even Kara Thrace.
1. Part I: I Had to See What I Could Lift

**Title:** "The Weight is a Gift"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Kara, with a bit of Kara/Lee and Kara/Sam

**Spoilers:** "Rapture" but veers AU

**Length:** Part I of III

**Summary:** Everyone has to grow up sometime, even Kara Thrace.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs

**Author's Note:** This is my first venture into the BSG fandom, so please be gentle. I've been trying to reconcile my feelings on Starbuck, who I liked a lot previously and is annoying me immensely in the later half of season three. I know babyfic is cliché and probably overdone, but if there's anything I want for Starbuck it's for her to grow a pair and start acting like an adult, not a spoiled teenager, and babyfic created an outlet for taking her through that journey. I would love feedback because while I've written fanfic before, never BSG, and the first fic in a new fandom is always the hardest. I'm worried about characterization and would love more experienced readers and writers to let me know how I'm doing. Title and cut courtesy of Nada Surf. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

It starts when it's her run at CAP and the bottom half of her flight suit won't button. She blames it on the new food, because no one's body is adjusting well to a permanent diet of processed algae, and doesn't think about it again. She eats a smaller portion for lunch and dinner, but the next day she can't get the button closed again.

She spends her offtime running, running to nowhere, and dodging personel as she moves through the causeways, but when she bends at the waist and presses a hand to her side to catch her breath, she can't ignore the hot curve of her abdomen. It's hard, and she's always had a body made of muscle and sinew, but something is different. Something's wrong, very, very wrong, and she's Starbuck and she's tough and doesn't break so easy, but she's been through too much and seen too much to think she's indestructable.

It isn't easy, but she makes an appointment with Doc Cottle and tells him her bum knee is acting up. He watches her through a cloud of cigarette smoke, taking in the flushed cheeks and feverish eyes, and jabs a needle in her arm to suck out a vial of her blood. He mumbles something about an iron deficiency and she nods absently, chews the end of her cigar and drums her fingers nervously against her thigh while she waits. It's weird, being in the sickbay without Lee's obnoxious banter ringing in her ears. She closes her eyes to block out the memories, but it doesn't work and they flash against her eyelids against her will. Lee has propped himself up on her crutches and he's laughing, teasing, pushing her to push herself. She thrusts open her eyes and she's bitten clear through the end of her cigar. It tastes old, bitter in her mouth, and she spits it into her palm. It looks the way she feels, torn and twisted and unlike itself. If only she'd been more careful, thought her actions through…she hops off the exam table, fake knee injury be damned, and throws the cigar out. She wishes she could dispose of her own mistakes so easily.

"Lay it on me straight, Doc," she insists when he pushes her curtain open and appears at her bedside, clutching a folder in his hand and his customary cigarette tucked behind one ear rather than propped between his lips. He won't quite meet her eye and she won't meet his, and fixes her gaze somewhere over his shoulder rather than look at his face.

"You're not going to like what I have to say, Starbuck," he says and tries to catch her eye, but she's too good at this game to let him win.

"So what is it? A couple weeks on med-leave? Another surgery?" She looks at him for half a second, long enough to wiggle her eyebrows and flash a trademark grin. "More happy pills to make me all better?"

"You're pregnant," he cuts through the bullshit and she literally feels the smile drop from her face. She shivers, and it has nothing to do with the cold air blasting over the expanse of skin revealed by the too-tight fit of her tanks.

Neither of them say anything for a long moment. "What can I do about it?" she finally asks, but Doc Cottle just watches her sadly. She doesn't say it outright, but they both know what she's talking about.

"You know the rules, Captain. It's a law now."

Her lip trembles, just the tiniest bit, and she locks her jaw to keep her expression straight but it can't quite hide the fear flashing through her eyes. "But I'm a pilot," she says. "I'm the best fraking pilot in the fleet. They need me." It goes unsaid that she needs them too, and she grips the edge of the exam table to keep from punching the sympathetic expression off Doc Cottle's face.

"They need babies more," he says. "If humanity has any hope for survival, it needs to grow." She's eyeing him strangely, because she's never known him as anything but cranky Doc Cottle, and right now he's looking and acting like the grandfather who died when she was seven. Her knuckles flare white as her fingers tighten on the table edge; the last thing she wants is another person's pity.

"Okay," she says tightly through the locked jaw. "How do we go about doing this? I can still fly for what, three, four months? Then I have it, and can get back in my cockpit, right?"

It's Doc Cottle's turn to watch her strangely, and he shakes his head, the sympathetic look moving to his eyes. She turns away so she doesn't have to see it. "You're about six weeks along," he explains. "You'll be on leave for the next nine months. When your body starts healing, we'll work out a plan to put you back in a bird. For now – " He realizes she's still not looking at him, and he lays a gentle hand on her bicep to get her attention. Her skin is like ice under his, and she flinches, but he doesn't think it's from the cold. "Starbuck, you're going to have this baby. Do you understand what that means?"

"How could this happen? I'm always careful…"

He sighs. "The radiation from the star cluster. It seems to have negated the effects of birth control. You're not the first I've seen, and you won't be the last."

"And there's nothing I can do?" She finally meets his eye and there's a pleading cast in hers, totally uncharacteristic of Starbuck, and it pains him that the mighty have fallen but it's beynd his control.

"Accidents will happen," he says, and when she says nothing in response he puts it in terms she'll understand. "You can't always pull the high card, Captain Thrace."

She nods, just a tiny flick of her head, and blinks rapidly. "You're grounding me immediately, aren't you?"

"I have to, President's orders. Nothing can get in the way of a baby being born."

She flinches, a shudder coiling through her entire body, and he knows it still has nothing to do with the cold air. Her voice is small when she speaks, without a trace of her usual cocky Starbuck confidence, and he hides his smile because motherhood is humbling her and it's only been ten minutes. "I want to tell the Admiral myself," she says. "Can you do that for me?"

He knows it's bad when she's asking for favors, so he writes her a note about her knee and pulls a bottle of pills out of his stores. "Vitamins. One every morning. It's good for the baby."

Again, a flinch. "Sure, whatever." She hops off the table with an exaggerated bounce. "Can I go now?"

He nods, presses the bottle of pills into her hand. "One every morning. You'll remember?"

She presses a hand to her still flat stomach and smiles bitterly. "I won't be flying for nine months." Her fingers tighten angrily around the bottle. "How could I forget?"

He wants to tell her it will be okay as she walks stiffly out of sickbay, but it's still the end of the world and he's not sure it will ever be okay again.

---

Kara wonders if she can take care if herself. She's heard the rumors, knows the stories – there are still ways to get around Roslin's ironclad rule, with the right number of cubits and a few bottles of the Chief's home brew. It would be dangerous and she could die, but it would be over and if she got lucky enough, might prevent it from ever happening again.

She weighs the risks as she walks to the officers' quarters, Doc Cottle's note clenched in her fist. She could die every time she straps herself into a viper and shoots through the tubes into war and oblivion. She knows if she dies at a raider's hands, she dies a hero; the gods would honor her death, grant her a spot in Elysium. Zak's face swims before her eyes and she can't help but smile because she knows he'll be waiting for her there. When she dies in the backroom of a freighter, her blood seeping out in a steady stream of her own doing, she knows the only face greeting her in hell will be her mother's.

She shudders, and it still has nothing to do with the cold.

The quarters are blessedly empty and she collapses into her rack, the vitamins rattling against the plastic bottle the way her thoughts rattle against her brain.

She wonders if she can convince Roslin to make an exception for her. After everything she's done for the fleet, she deserves a break. She deserves to keep saving their asses, even if they'll only whine about the military in the papers the next morning. She's a pilot – it's the only thing she knows how to do.

She rolls on her back, one hand on her stomach, and it's still flat but the hardness she's not used to is also there. In a few months, she wonders if she'll even be able to fit into her bunk.

Nausea rolls up her throat and it has nothing to do with the thing in her belly. The room feels stuffy and the metal walls of her rack are closing in on her, and it's getting hard to breathe. She forces herself to a sitting position, drops her head between her knees, takes long, painful breaths and tries to force her vision to focus.

It can't be happening. None of this can be happening, not to her. She's put her life on the line day after day, flight after flight – the gods are supposed to cut her a break. She closes her eyes, tries to get some persepective, but phantom fingers trail through her hair and grip her skull as she's pressed up against the control panel of a raptor and Lee's chest is molding to her, helping her bend the rules.

Marriage is a sacrament, but fidelity is too. She presses an unconscious hand to her belly – she knows she's being punished.

The hatch opens and Lee steps through, eyes fixed on an open folder in his hands. He has a pen tucked behind his ear and he's mumbling something under his breath, and hasn't seen her yet. She looks around wildly, because Lee might be the CAG again but he's also married and has his own quarters; he isn't supposed to be here.

"Hey," he says when he finally spots her, and she's managed to sit up straight and prop up her leg for authenticity before he noticed her. She pushes the bottle of vitamins under her blanket and they're noisy enough to distract him. "What are you doing in here?" he asks and closes his folder. "Aren't you on duty?"

She forces a smile, tries to make it seem like everything is alright. "I could ask you the same question, Major."

He smiles and crosses his arms over his chest, muscles flexing under the thin cloth of his shirt. She looks away; those muscles helped her into trouble in the first place. "I've never seen you skip on CAP, Kara." The smile smoothes into a frown. "What's going on?"

She points to her knee, tries to seem nonchalant when her thoughts are pounding her brain at a mile a minute. She needs to get away from him, sort things out. "Knee's acting up." She swears under her breath for effect. "Fraking Cottle put me on med-leave until he thinks it's better."

He buys her excuse, but doesn't appear to be in any rush to leave. His eyes travel the length of the empty room, and she knows him well enough to know what he's thinking; it's what got her into this mess to begin with. With effort, she pulls her leg into her rack and crosses her arms over her belly. The weird hardness is still there and she quickly drops them to her sides. "I'm tired, Lee, okay? I just wanna sleep until this is over."

His frown deepens. "It's only a knee injury, Kara. You'll be on your feet and drilling the nuggets again in a day or two. I'll talk to Cottle, see if we can get you back in a bird sooner than later."

She closes her eyes and swallows hard, because she and Cottle can only keep up this ruse for so long. "No, it's okay. Better to let it heal now than flare up again later."

He looks at her like she's lost her mind and leans over her rack to press a palm to her forehead. "Are you sure you're okay?" His skin is smooth for a military man, and gentle against her brow.

"I'm fine," she insists and puts a hard edge in her voice. "If I can't be out there, I'd rather catch up on my sleep in here. Isn't that what you're always telling me, more sleep makes a better pilot?"

His smile is more than a little bit smug. "You got me there. I'll take my paperwork elsewhere, let you sleep."

She doesn't say thank you, just holds her breath and hopes he'll go. She can't think when he's around and right now it's all she needs to do. He stands up and picks up his folder, eyes never leaving her face. They're too soft for a man married to another woman. She wants to look away, but not until he leaves. He takes a step for the exit, but turns at the last minute and bends over her rack to press a gentle kiss to her brow. "Feel better," he breathes against her skin and smoothes back her hair. "Sweet dreams."

She remembers, way back when, her father kissing her goodnight, telling her she'd do the same for her own child some day.

She manages to wait till he's gone before she starts crying.

---

She's forgotten that Sam and Lee are sort of friends now, but remembers quickly when her husband appears beside her rack an hour so later and tells he's taking her to the Rising Star for some R&R.

"I'm not going anywhere," she tells him and thanks the gods for a supposed nap taking credit for her red-stained eyes. "I'm not an invalid, Sam. I just hurt my knee." The lie gets easier each time she tells it, almost like it's no longer a lie.

He sits in a chair across from her, and she notices how out of place he appears in the officers' quarters clad in civilian clothes. "Kara, you're not going to be flying for a couple days. We could use the time together."

"Sam…" she trails off because being alone with him is the last thing she wants, the last thing she needs, because being alone with him got her into trouble to begin with.

"Kara, let me talk, okay?" She nods and he continues, crossing his arms across his chest so the eagle wing on his shoulder flexes, struggles to take flight. Her own tattoo prickles in response, because it knows a bird can't fly with clipped wings. Sam's a good man – too good a man for this. "I know we've had our problems, but you're my wife. I love you. I want us to work this out. I think we just need to get away, find each other again. When was the last time we did that, just you and me? No Adamas, no Galactica, just Sam and Kara, the way it used to be."

The nausea bubbles in her throat again and it still has nothing to do with the thing in her belly. "Marriage is a sacrament," she tells herself. "Divorce is a sin. Sam is your husband. You made a choice – deal with it."

He's watching her, waiting for an answer, the same open, earnest expression on his face that got her into this mess to begin with. He pulls a pack of Triad cards from the pocket of his cargoes. "I'll play you for it. I win, you leave Galactica for a few days. You win, I'll let you be." The challenge is there, but she knows it's not over the game; he wants her to come with him, cards be damned.

"I can't go, Sam," she says. "Just cause I'm on sick-leave doesn't mean I don't have responsibilities here."

His face hardens and his arms slip to his sides. "Since when do you play by the rules, Kara."

She doesn't know how to answer him because explaining how the gods chose to kick her in the ass isn't something she can talk about at the moment.

"I'm a pilot, Sam," she tries to explain. "They need me here."

He pushes his chair back sharply and gets to his feet. "And I'm your husband. I need you too. You might want to remember that sometime."

The hatch closes angrily and she shudders slightly from the impact. She drags a hand through her hair and the ghost of Lee's fingers trail with hers. Her muscles twitch and her eagle wing flexes, still trying to take flight. She wonders if she'll ever get her feet off the ground again with the new weight she's carrying, the burden the gods have added to her shoulders.

She brings her free hand to her belly and there's no swelling but the hard length of it is starting to feel familiar. She knows she can't make it go away. She knows she has to see it through, because she's Kara Thrace and that's what she does.

She closes her eyes but this time she doesn't cry – she knows what she has to do.

---

The president is in the old man's quarters when Kara arrives to tell him, and she doesn't feel bad about interrupting whatever they were doing together, because if the old man hadn't had Lee or Roslin hadn't altered Colonial law, she wouldn't have this problem.

She waits nervously for Roslin to leave and and takes deep breaths to calm her nerves. Roslin is finally gone and she's seated on the old man's couch and he's watching her, waiting for her to start talking.

"What's going on, Captain?" he asks and his voice is soothing and patient, like he has all the time in the world. The time bomb in her belly flares to life with the nausea and she closes her eyes to keep from retching right on his carpet. "Kara?" he says and she presses a hand to her chest to keep from losing it.

"I'm pregnant," she manages to whisper and her body runs cold as the words leave her lips because knowing the truth and admitting the truth are totally different things and saying the words out loud makes them painfully real. "Oh, gods, I'm pregnant."

Adama's eyes widen slightly and his lips curl into a small smile. "I'm assuming congratulations aren't in order?"

She laughs at his attempt at humor because she has to, even though his words aren't particularly funny. Her words aren't either, and now that they're out of the bag there's nothing to do but try and accept them. "Doc Cottle's pulled me off rotation." Her eyes flick angrily to the door Roslin recently departed through. "I'm grounded for the next nine months." She feels the tears fill her eyes and blinks to try and keep them at bay. "I'm so sorry, Sir. I never meant to let the fleet down."

Adama doesn't say anything for a moment, just reaches over to lay his hand on hers. "The day of the attack, do you know one of the first things President Roslin said to me?"

She shakes her head, because of course she doesn't know.

"She said people better start having babies. You're only doing your part."

"But the fleet – "

"We have other pilots, Captain, and you're the best flight instructor we've got. You're letting no one down."

She can tell by the look in his eyes that he means it, and he isn't disappointed in her, doesn't hate her for taking herself out of commission. "Thank you, Sir."

He pauses for a moment. "Kara," he says again and she knows it's important because he's using her given name. "Have you thought about what this all means? Do you understand what a pregnancy entails?"

She pulls her hand from underneath his and crosses her arms under her breasts, away from her traitorous belly. "I get fat, I have the kid, I get back in my bird. End of story."

He smiles, but it's not the encouraging smile of before. "I've been through this twice. It's not so simple. Mothers – " he starts but retracts his words when he sees her furious expression. "You're going to have another being living inside you for close to a year, Kara. You're going to be feeding him, sheltering him, keeping him alive. Bonds form, whether you want them to or not."

"Just like whether or not I want to do this, right?" she cuts in. "This isn't my choice. I'll have the kid, because it's the law, but I don't have to enjoy it."

Adama just smiles at her sadly and if he weren't the Admiral she'd slam her fist between his eyes to knock the expression off his face. "You may find your feelings change."

"I doubt it. I said I'd do this. Can't we just leave it at that?"

"We're all dealt a hand, Kara. We can only do the best with the cards we're dealt."

"I know," she says and rises quickly to her feet, knowing she won't be able to for much longer. "I pulled the low card."

"You may be surprised," he says. "Sometimes the low card wins all."

She pulls up a memory of her viper whooshing through the tubes and jetting out into space to save what's left of the world because she's not sure she'll ever be able to do it again. "Not when you're up against full colors. Thank you for your time, Sir."

She does a quick salute and gets the hell out of his office before losing it entirely, and barely makes it to the nearest head before losing her lunch. She grimaces at the reflection in the mirror, because her eyes are too bright and her complexion is too creamy for someone breathing recycled air and living on processed algae. She's known for less than a day and she can already tell the difference in her body. It's only going to get worse.

---

She decides to tell them together because she doesn't think she can say the words twice. They sit in identical chairs in the officers' quarters, Lee in his prim and proper military gear and Sam in mismatched civilian clothes he'd managed to dredge up from somewhere. Doc Cottle had officially grounded her an hour earlier and her eyes dart from man to man, unsure of where she belongs now. With her news, she assumes home is no longer with either of them.

"Kara," Sam starts because she's just sitting there, watching them, not saying a word. She's not ready, not sure she'll ever be ready. "What's going on?"

Lee nods, joins in. "Is everything okay?"

Somehow, the words slip out of their own accord. "I'm pregnant, and one of you is responsible."

It's out there and she can't take it back, and both men just stare at her as they digest her declaration.

Lee watches her from his chair wearing the same broken expression he wore the night she told him there was nothing between them because she was all about Sam. Somewhere, she knows the gods are laughing at the irony of the situation. Sam is the first to speak. "How?"

She can't believe he's actually asking for clarfiication. "Do you need me to draw you a diagram, Sammy? Accidents happen."

He doesn't back down from the challenge. "You're supposed to be on birth control. How did this happen?"

"Radiation in the star cluster," Lee whispers. "I have two Pegasus pilots down for the count for of the same reasons." He finally looks up to meet her eyes and they're anguished and defeated. "Kara, what are we going to do?"

"You mean what am I going to do?" she bites out, and on the defensive she's starting to feel more like herself. She looks at Lee, "You're going back to your wife." She looks at Sam, "You're going back to your ship." She take a breath and stands, feeling exactly like her old self. "I'm going to have it and get on with my life."

Lee rises too. "Kara, you can't be serious. We need to talk about what we're going to do – "

"What I'm going to do!" she repeats herself. Sam is standing now too, and they're both bearing down on her and she can't take it. "You don't get it. This is my problem. Mine. You two can go back to your lives like nothing happened, but I can't. Everything changes for me now."

They're both watching her like she's crazy. "And it doesn't change things for us?" Sam asks. "This isn't a game anymore, Kara. That's a baby you're carrying." She flinches over the word, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Lee flinch too. "I'm your husband, Kara. Let me help you through this."

"But you're not necessarily the father, right, Kara?" Lee asks softly. "That's what this is all about, isn't it?"

She slips her fists into the pockets of her sweatshirt and her fingers lock around the idols hidden there, Apollo in one fist and Artemis in the other, clinging to them for support. The movement pulls the material of her shirt up her torso and reveals an inch of the bare skin of her belly, drawing Sam's and Lee's gaze to her exposed stomach. She's never been conscious about her body before, but her body isn't just hers anymore. She lets go of her gods to face Sam and Lee alone. "I don't know."

"Great, that's just great," Sam says and runs an hand over his face. "What are we supposed to do?"

Lee jumps in before she can answer. His voice is soft and gentle, but his question is devastating. "Kara, what do you want us to do?"

She looks at them both, her eyes meeting blue and trading them for brown. Her fingers move to her gods again, Apollo and Artemis torn apart, and she knows there's no easy way to put it back together again. Infidelity is her sin, her burden to bear. "I want you to go home, both of you." Sam takes a step forward, and she shakes her head. "Home isn't with me, for either of you."

She takes a step back, slips into her rack. "Just go." Neither of them move, but she no longer has the energy to fight them. "Please," she asks and there's a pleading note in her voice that makes her wince. "Just go."

She won't look at them as they trail out, but she hears Lee's voice at the hatch. "If you need anything, Kara, I'm here. All you have to do is ask."

They both know it's an empty threat because she's Kara Thrace and if she knows anything, it's that she's alone in this. Always has been, always will be. The offer might stand, but she'll never ask.

* * *

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	2. Part II A: Bright Futures Are Overrated

**Title:** "The Weight is a Gift"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Kara, with a little bit of everyone else

**Spoilers:** "Rapture" but veers AU

**Length:** Part II: A of III

**Summary:** Everyone has to grow up sometime, even Kara Thrace.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note:** This was originally going to be a three part story but Part II kept running away with itself and getting longer and longer and longer as the time between updates increased as well, so I made the executive decision to keep the story in its original three-part structure, but break Part II into three sections. I present Part A, the second step in Kara Thrace's journey to adulthood; two more will follow as I get them ready. Thank you to everyone for your wonderful support for this story. I'm feeling a lot more confident about writing BSG now!

* * *

**TWO**

A week after Doc Cottle pulls her off-duty, Kara falls in the shower during an FTL jump. She can't believe it happened, and for a full thirty seconds she lays on the cold tile, legs splayed awkwardly, waiting for the world to right itself. It's not until a strong hand locks around her bicep and pulls her up, her bare feet skidding on the wet tile, that she realizes without her body in flight she doesn't remember how to keep her feet locked to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Hot Dog asks, brushing wet hair off his forehead.

She brushes herself off and hopes the steam will camoflague the embarassed heat staining her cheeks, because she's Starbuck and she never does anything as pathetic as fall during an FTL jump she's done a hundred times before. "I'm fine," she assures him and doesn't bother to hide the annoyance in her voice. He's watching her closely, carefully, and she rubs her knee because it's supposedly an injury keeping her grounded. "I'm just a little weak on my feet, Hot Dog. Give it a rest."

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again and it takes her a few seconds to realize what he's talking about, what she should be thinking about. She's almost two full months along and there's a slight curve to her belly now, and when she isn't stark naked and she's covered in tanks and sweats, she can forget it's there. It's only now, when everything is laid bare, that it's impossible to ignore.

"I'm fine," she grits out with her trademark Starbuck menace and he holds up his hands and backs away. She steps back under the showerhead and lets the water wash the soap out of her hair the way she wishes it could wash away her mistakes. She waits until he's gone before pressing a hand to her belly, feeling the hard curve she wishes would disappear.

---

She forgets how small a world Galactica is until she's heading out of the showers for a briefing on a CAP she won't fly, and she overhears the gossip making its way through the corridors.

_"Did you hear? Starbuck was totally lying. Her knees's fine. She's knocked up!"_

"_Who do you think the father is? Her husband? The CAG?" _

"_Yeah, right. This is Starbuck we're talking about. It could be anyone in the Fleet." _

She winces as their laughter trails off as they turn the corner, because they're not wrong. The entire crew knows who she is and what she did and now they'll watch her suffer the consequences.

She can't meet Lee's eye when she slinks into a seat in back, but feels every other pair of eyes darting between her and him, back and forth, watching their private drama unfold. She swallows hard and tries to hold her head up high, the way Dee did when she saved her ass at her husband's request, and every person in the flight hangar was looking at her with such pity she'd wondered how the girl could keep standing. She'd felt so lucky to be alive that day, with Sam and Lee breathing beside her, that she hadn't had a spare thought for Dee's pain.

She knows now, as the pilots turn back to each other whispering under her breath, what it's like to suffer, Galactica-style. Dee broke Billy's heart and was rewarded with a loveless marriage; she sinned against the gods and they took away what she loves most. The briefing goes on around her and the words bump around her mind at their own accord because they no longer hold meaning for her because she's no longer a pilot.

She presses a hand to her lungs to ease her breathing and her breasts are tender to her touch, and straining a bit against the tight fit of her tanks. Her hands fall into her lap and bump the slight curve of her belly and she shoves them to her sides with a frustrated snap.

Lee won't even look at her as he drones on about the new CAP schedule and she wonders why she's still in the room. This isn't her life anymore. There's no point in tormenting herself with another thing she can't have. But CAP and space spiraling around her and the adreneline rushing through veins make up what's left of her world, and she can't seem to tear herself away. She's Kara Thrace – pain is all she knows.

There's whispering in the front row and Lee finally looks up from the re-tooled roster to confront his pilots. "Is there a problem?" he asks and there's a no-nonsense note to his voice that Kara hasn't heard in months.

Jester and Cougar, Pegasus' best offerings, stop needling each other and look up to meet the CAG's eye. "We want to offer Starbuck our congratulations," Jester says and beside him Cougar collapses in a fit of giggles.

Lee's jaw locks and Kara swears she sees a vein jump in his temple, but he keeps his cool and takes it out on the flight register crumpling between his fingers. "We're in the middle of a briefing. You can speak with Captain Thrace on your own time."

Kara doesn't want to speak to either of them and looks to the ceiling, hoping the gods will take the moment to take pity on her and the floor will open up and swallow her whole. It's not fair to Lee, to Sam, even Dee – this is her sin, her penance. She glares daggers at the back of Jester's and Cougar's heads, but they don't let up. "Aww, c'mon," Jester throws out. "We know didn't really hurt her knee."

Kara knows she sees the vein jump in Lee's temple, and she stands up before he loses his Apollo cool and gets half the squad thrown in the brig for slugging a superior officer. "It's true. I'm pregnant, and I'm grounded indefinitely." She glares at the nuggets she overheard gossiping in the corridor. "So pay attention and listen to the CAG so when you come back from CAP, we bring you back in one piece." She ignores the tenderness in her breasts and crosses her arms over them, locks her knees and stares down any challengers. "It's your job to keep humanity alive. Act like it."

She sits back down and the nuggets duck their heads and turn back to Lee's lecture. His face is calm again, without a ripple of tension, but he knows the gossip and the tips of his ears flame red as he releases his death grip on the files. He finishes the briefing without another incident, but his voice isn't as steady as before and the nuggets aren't as reassured. She looks back at the ceiling and really wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

The briefing finally ends and the nuggets bolt from the room, ready to claim their winnings from the pools she knows have been circulating amongst the crews, but some of the officers hang back.

"Nice job," Racetrack says as she gathers up her papers. "You have the voice down exactly."

Kara has no idea what she's talking about. "What?"

"The voice, the mom voice. They totally lost their shit the moment you started yelling." Racetrack looks pointedly at the curved belly hiding beneath her sweatshirt. "When it's time, you'll have the voice ready." She pauses for a moment, then squeezes Kara's shoulder before going on her way.

The press of her fingers lingers as her words sink in. "Mom voice?" Kara thinks to herself. The only voice she knows is the yells and the screams, the spittle spraying her face while her fingers cracked and the pain flooded through her until she was numb with it. She shivers, prays Racetrack was simply telling a joke she didn't understand.

Hot Dog appears beside her before she can mull the issue further, and he extends a hand warily. "Congratulations, Starbuck," he says. "A baby is a blessing."

Kara wonders if she's landed in bizarro world because she has no idea what anyone is talking about. A sharp retort sticks to the tip of her tongue, because this is Hot Dog and he's a moron at his best, but there's a wet agony lurking behind the hardness in his eyes and she catches herself at the last second. She remembers how he was with Kat at the dance, a snippet of overheard conversation between him and Lee about trading for rings within the Fleet, the cracked and bleeding smile Kat wore the last time she saw her alive. She remembers that everyone has dreams, and they don't always come true, and sometimes other people are the ones who get to see them to fruition. Zak wanted to be her husband and instead she married Sam and Hot Dog wanted a future with Kat and she's the one giving humanity another shot at survival. It's not fair, but she knows too well that life never is.

She pushes the nasty remarks out of her mind and smiles like she means it. "Thank you," she says, even though it's a lie, but lying doesn't seem like such a sin when a little of the pain leaves Hot Dog's eyes. She's glad someone can be happy, even for only a moment.

Hot Dog takes his leave and she's alone in the room with Lee. He's rifling through his folders, straightening the pens, doing anything he can to avoid looking at her. He finally stows away his gear and clicks off the projector, and she realizes he's going to leave without saying a word.

"Lee," she tries, because she's Starbuck and he's Apollo and she can hurt him and break him, but he's her friend and she needs him.

"I'm married," he interrupts. He still won't look at her and his voice is strained, like it's hard for him to get the words out. "I can't do it to Dee, Kara. If you need me, really need me, I'll be there for you, but I can't do this. I can't be your friend right now."

She's glad he isn't looking at her because she recoils like she's been slapped and the last thing she wants is him feeling sorry for her. "I guess that's always been the problem. We never were just friends, were we?"

It's his turn to flinch and she's looking at him to see it, the tiny tremor that recoils violently through him. If she weren't so angry, she might feel a bit sorry for him. "Kara, that's not what I meant – "

"Go back to your wife, Lee," she says with a disgusted shake of her head.

He stands there for a full minute, one hand on the hatch and the other pulling away from his side, almost reaching for her. "Kara," he tries again but she's had enough. She should have known better than trying to rely on someone else.

"Go home, Lee," she repeats but he doesn't budge and now his hand is definitely reaching for her. She twists away, still agile and quick on her feet, and stands firm. "I don't need you," she says and this time he doesn't try to hide the shudder.

He doesn't fight her either, and a minute later she hears the scratch of the hatch door as he pushes it open. She waits for it to shut, close this chapter of her life, but he pauses in the doorway. "I meant what I said, Kara. If you really need me I'm here for you." She hears his footsteps echo down the corridor as he retreats to his wife.

He leaves the hatch open.

**THREE**

Her belly stretches and her body changes. She starts taking her meals intravenously, because the smell of processed algae alone makes her gag, and it's only worse when she has to eat the stuff. She can't keep what passes for food down, and after a couple days Doc Cottle orders her to sickbay and jams a needle in her wrist. She doesn't protest – she knows she won't win no matter how hard she fights.

She watches the clear liquid fill her veins and wonders if any of it is actually going to her, or if the thing in her belly is taking every last vitamin, every last nutrient, the way it's taken everything else.

"How are you feeling?" Doc Cottle asks and she this time she holds her head up high to meet his eye. It's not like before, when they were tiptoeing around the truth and avoiding the enormous elephant in the room. This time, there's a fetal monitor hooked up to the newly rounded curve of her belly and there are three heartbeats filling the room where there used to be two.

"Fine."

Doc Cottle's face is expressionless as he scribbles in her chart, but that annoyng sympathy is back in his eyes. "Good to hear." He pauses, waits a beat. "Do you have any questions?"

She averts her eyes and rolls the tubing between her fingers, watching the liquid flow through her to keep the thing in her belly alive. One flick of her wrist and it could all be over. She has a million questions, like why the smell of Racetrack's perfume makes her want to retch, or why the rest of her is still normal but her ass seems to have grown three sizes in the last three weeks. She keeps them to herself, and pastes on her blankest smile. "Nope, everything's good, Doc." The tube is clear and empty, the way she wishes she could be. "Can I go now?"

He looks at her hard as he pulls the tube out of her vein. "Are you taking your vitamins?

"Every day."

"You're not drinking or smoking?"

She remembers the first day she'd sashayed into the rec room after making her announcement. There'd been booze, but not a cigar in sight and it had only taken a moment to see the sign tacked on the back of the hatch in Lee's neat writing: "No Smoking." She hadn't apologized as she'd slipped into her chair and antyed into the game, but she hadn't tossed a nasty retort at the annoyed looks the rest of the group were sending her way. She'd won the first hand, folded on the second, and lost interest by the third. Playing cards to while away the hours between saving the world wasn't fun when there was no world for her to save anymore. Three days later she'd poked her head into the room between shifts and the sign was still there along with the stench of stale smoke. The nausea had flared up and she'd almost retched right then and there. She hadn't gone back; fun and games were no longer a part of her life.

She looks Doc Cottle right in the eye and tells the truth. "No. Nothing but clean living for me, right?"

He presses a piece of gauze to her wrist. "You'll thank me in a few months. Nothing is more important –"

"I know," she snaps, takes a deep breath, and gets herself together. "I know. Can I go now?"

He nods, and she hops off the table, taking a moment to settle. She's still quick on her feet, but there's a new heaviness in her step and she always feels a little off balance. She presses a hand to her back, sticking out her belly a little, and finds her footing. "Take care of yourself, Captain."

She rubs the bandaged spot on her wrist, thinks about the weeks that have passed since she's been in the air. "I'll do my best," she says because it's the most she can promise. She didn't ask for this, doesn't want this, and can't seem to stop it.

"Hope for the best but expect the worse," her mother used to say on the rare occasion she was sober and wasn't beating the living shit out of her daughter.

She doesn't want to admit it, but her mother is right – all she can do is try and hope she makes it through okay.

---

Sam joins the deckcrew to be near her. His military career lasts exactly a week, because a body and a mind bred for competition and winning can only take orders for so long before rebelling, and rather than dump Sam in the bring during his first week of service, the Admiral offers him an honorable discharge and finds him a security post on a Colonial ship.

She sees him every other week, when he can trade an R&R pass with the other guards, and he slips into her bunk and holds her like she'll break without his arms around her.

She knows she won't break, foreign moons and Kobol and even cylon farms failing to keep her down, but she lets him hold her because she knows he needs to believe it. After New Caprica, after Colonial Day Part Deux, after the thing in her belly taking root without a father to call its own, she owes him as much.

He sings her Caprican lullabyes she vaguely remembers from her childhood, from before her father died, and burrows into the shelter of his arms. It makes her believe, just for a few minutes, that every childhood isn't hell and just because cuts and bruises and screaming pain are the only things she knows, history doesn't have to repeat itself.

She doesn't need him, because she's Kara Thrace and she can take care of herself, but she likes his weight behind her, forearms resting right above the swelling bump of her belly. He holds her tight and presses kisses to her hair, fingers trailing over her rounded torso. He tells her he loves her and he loves the baby, no matter who the father is, because it's hers.

She pushes away the urge to flinch and snuggles deeper into the embrace of a man she doesn't need but thinks she'll always want. She's grateful someone, anyone, will love the thing in her belly because she's not sure she ever will.

**FOUR**

Lee ignores her and Dee leaves him a couple days before her second trimester starts. Every eye that wasn't trained on her before watches her back constantly now, and she knows there are new pools as to how long before the CAG and his pregnant maybe girlfriend hook up for real.

It doesn't happen.

She won't let it happen.

Adultery is a sin, but she's a wife and there's still time to honor her vow. She broke up one marriage; she's not condeming a sin against another.

She needs Sam. She needs him because she's fraked up royally once again and she knows he'll be there to hold her steady through it.

She ignores how he might keep her head above the water but won't teach her to swim.

---

It's been a full two months since Doc Cottle took her wings and almost two months since anyone but Lee has called her Starbuck.

There's something different about being a pilot, something that separates them from the rest of the Fleet, the rest of Galactica, because when it's go time they're the ones staring right into death's pulsating, red eyes. When her body isn't in motion and her feet are wearing trails into Galactica's corridors the way they did viper pedals, there's no longer anything special about her. She doesn't know how to be anyone but a pilot and she doesn't know Kara without Starbuck along for the ride.

The rest of the ship isn't making it any easier. Those who aren't friends of Dee's are happy to see the sainted Starbuck fall from grace, and sometimes when she's alone in the head with nothing but her belly for company she thinks she hears Kat's laughter because the mighty Starbuck has really, truly lost.

She tries to avoid her but the corridor is crowded full of people and she's forced to squeeze past Dee on her way out of the mess. Dee's tiny, but the crew is nosy, and there's no way to get around Lee's ex without acknowledging her presence.

"Kara," Dee says evenly.

"Dee," she returns.

"I want to tell you something," Dee says and her eyes are feverishly bright and she's holding herself so straight and tall Kara's surprised her back doesn't snap clear in half. She feels like a blimp in comparisson, her belly awkwardly pressing against the seams of a cast-off sweatshirt and she does her best to stand up straight as well but ends up in her pregnancy stance instead, knees splayed and a hand at her back to support the newfound weight. Dee keeps her eyes carefully averted, and locks them on Kara's face. It's uncomfortable, being under all that scrutiny, but she won't back down.

"Okay…" Kara responds because she and Dee aren't friends, will never be friends, and she's not sure why her kid's possible father's ex-wife is insisting on having a conversation in the very public corridor.

"My mother was a midwife on Sagittaron. When I was a teenager, I sometimes went with her to the births." She lowers her eyes and breathes in sharply as they lock on Kara's belly. "I know some of what you're going through, and I wanted to tell you that if you have any questions, feel free to ask."

Kara blinks. "You're offering me help."

Dee draws her eyes back to Kara's face and her shoulders are slightly slumped now, but she's holding her head just as high, just as proud as before. "I don't like you, Kara, and I don't have to like you. But your baby?" It's Kara's turn to take in a sharp breath. "You can't choose your parents. Your baby deserves a life, a happy life. I'm just doing my part."

Kara knows about doing her part, because if she had a choice her belly would be as flat as the day she first arrived on Galactica and her only worries would be tracking down the Fleet's dwindling supply of cigars.

She's never been good at apologies or selfless gestures, but she thinks Dee's pretty much embodying the latter and the least she can do is say thank you.

"Thanks, Dee," she says quietly. "I don't know what else to say."

Something ugly and angry flashes through Dee's eyes, and for a moment she looks every bit the adversary she roleplayed the long months of her marriage. "I'm not doing this for you, Kara. Remember that."

She walks away, trim and fit and without a hair out of place, but Kara isn't envious of her trim figure, or that her ass is a normal size, or that there isn't a thing in Dee's body sucking every bit of moisture out of her hair.

She watches the straight line of Dee's back make way through the corridor, parting the still nosy crowds and heading towards the CIC for duty and obligation and guiding the pilots home.

Kara knows why she's envious, because Dee's one of them and Kara isn't.

---

She stops going to briefings and spends the majority of her time in the hangar deck fixing vipers. There aren't any new nuggets to train, so she fills her days making sure they risk their lives but don't give their lives to keep humanity safe. There's always more work than people to do it, so Chief doesn't say a word about having an extra pair of hands, no matter where they come from.

She slips beneath a viper and digs her drillbit into the steel plate she's latching onto the underbelly of the plane. The bolt snaps, and suddenly everything is collapsing around her. She instinctively curls onto her side, drawing her legs against the bulk of her belly, and realizes, as she wraps her hands over her knees and arches out her back, that she's not unlike the thing in her belly. She saw it last week during her monthy visit with Doc Cottle, suspended inside her the way her viper used to take her through space. She'd tried to concentrate on the positive, the way the Doc had encouraged, and reminded herself that she only had five months to go until she had her body back.

Five months to go and light-weight steel plating can rain on her from above and the only life on the line will be hers.

Feet scurry around her and hands clutch at the sheeting. She can hear muffled shouting from beneath her blanket of metal, and she isn't the least surprised when Lee's face is the first she sees as she's hauled to her feet.

His eyes are blazing and the vein in his temple is itching to throb, and he doesn't speak to her, just locks his fingers around her bicep and drags her into the shadow of the viper's wing. The deck crew turns back to their work without a second thought. The circumstances might have changed but the players haven't, and they all know how it will end before it even starts. Laird, stationed at the viper directly next to theirs, even puts in a set of earplugs before maneuvering underneath his bird.

"What were you thinking, Kara?" Lee hisses. He's furious at her and she knows why, even if she won't admit it.

She's can still find the Starbuck inside her around him, and she whips around to face him. "Get off it, Lee. The only damage done is another viper missing its belly. Chief's short-staffed. The least I can do is lend a hand."

Despite the repetition, some of the flighthands have strayed away from their posts to listen in and Lee lowers his voice and pulls her closer so the rounded edge of her belly bumps his abdomen. He backs up with a jerk and smacks his head on the rim of the wing, and she jumps back to bang her bad knee on the wheel casing, and they let out yelps of pain in unison.

He's rubbing his head furiously, still frustrated but for entirely different reasons, and she hobbles around on her good leg, trying to find her footing once again. She's just able to stand up straight again when there's a weird pressure in her belly and she thinks her insides are trying to poke through her skin. She closes her eyes, sucks in a breath. She's still an adulterer, still carrying a kid that might not be her husband's – the gods don't have a time limit on penance.

"Kara, what is it?" Lee asks and there's a new frustration on his face, because she's hurting and he doesn't understand why. "Is it your knee? Can you stand?"

She knows exactly what it is and she wants to run, get away from him before this moment happens all over again, but she's pressed up against the wing of the plane and his fingers are pressing into her biceps and his eyes are searching hers and there's nowhere to go.

"Kara?" he tries again and his eyes are pleading now and they're troubled and tormented and remind her a bit of the day they spent at the beach the last time he saw his brother alive. She'd dared him to swim out, swim out further than the other bathers, and because he was Apollo and she was Starbuck, he'd taken her up on it. The cramp had hit midway to the buoy and she'd hadn't freaked, because she was Kara Thrace and capable of taking care of herself, but he'd insisted on tugging her home, her head cushioned on his shoulder so she'd get enough air. When they'd gotten back to the beach he'd showed her the way to rub out a cramp in mid-swim so it would never happen again.

She sees the look in his eyes and thinks it's her turn to keep him afloat.

"It kicked," she says and it's all the explanation she needs to provide.

Lee's eyes fill with emotions Kara hasn't seen since Helena Cain tried to blow all their lives apart. His hands loosen on her biceps and hover, because he knows what he wants but is afraid to take it. "Can I feel it?" he asks and she's too afraid to speak so she nods instead.

His hand presses feather light, so different from Sam's probing fingers, and his mouth hangs open a bit as his hand slips under her tanks to touch her bare skin. Their breath catches in unison because it happens again, just a tiny flutter, and then beats stronger and his fingers seem to shutter against her belly.

She doesn't want this, didn't ask for it, but she can't help enjoying it the tiniest bit because it's alive and it's kicking hello and it's all because of her. Sheltered behind the layers of skin and sinew and flesh, she's keeping it safe, Kara Thrace and no one else. Even with her feet rooted to the ground, she's still playing hero.

Lee draws back after a moment, seems to remember where they are and who he is, and straightens his shoulders and cocks his head in his best military stance. "I'll see if I can get you more shifts in the CIC, Captain. You'll be able to lend a hand without putting yourself in danger." It's implied that the thing in her belly will be out of harm's way as well.

He smiles at her, and she smiles back, and for the first time since this whole mess started she feels more Starbuck and less Kara.

* * *

Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time. 


	3. Part II B: I'm a Screw Up, Lee

**Title:** "The Weight is a Gift"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Kara, with a little bit of everyone else

**Spoilers: **"Rapture" but veers AU with a blink-and-miss-it reference from "Maelstrom"

**Length:** Part II: B of III

**Summary:** Everyone has to grow up sometime, even Kara Thrace.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **I know the updates have been kind of slow going, but I'm a grad student/teacher and my work load just doubled in the past few weeks so I've been squeezing in updates between planning lessons and grading papers. Thank you again for the wonderful support for this fic. I'm really enjoying writing it, and I'm glad so many readers are enjoying me efforts. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

* * *

**FIVE**

Lee comes through the way he always does, and Kara spends the majority of her time in the CIC. The Fleet rounded the Ionian Nebula a few days earlier, and she's been assigned to Gaeta, helping him guide the ships through star clusters and space debris. She's accustomed to planning military missions and it's an adjustment to steer a fleet of civilians to safety and home. She's never wanted to lose a pilot, but it's a fact of life in the military. It isn't an option to lose a civilian ship. With so few people to carry out what's left of the human race, every life matters. She knows, better than others, how much those lives matter.

It's awkward, sharing space with Gaeta and all the others playing for Team Dualla. It's more awkward sharing space with Dee herself. They keep to their sides of the command center, but it's impossible to ignore Dee's voice calmly relaying orders to the Admiral, just like it's impossible to ignore her steadily growing bulk taking up residence before the mission board.

The old man watches her across the CIC, catching how her body no longer twists and bends between the narrow aisles, and her belly keeps bumping the mission board when she leans over to rearrange the pattern of civilian ships. After an hour or so Gaeta takes pity on her and moves the ships on her order, and her cheeks flame and she can't meet the eyes of a crew that already hates her, because she used to fly vipers through the end of the world and now she can't move a piece of plastic six inches across a graph board.

If she hadn't seen hell when she'd landed on what was left of Caprica, she'd be sure this grounded existence is her personal version of Hades.

On the morning of the third day of her new life they lose their first pilot since she threw up processed algae and the bottom fell out of her world. The cylons have found them, followed them, and they've barely figured out what the nebula means before Dee's steady voice is calling out coordinates of a dradis contact, and there's an explosion, and then a scream over the wire, and it all goes silent.

It takes a full thirty seconds for someone to react, and then Adama's quietly asking for the location of the search and rescue birds and Dee's calling the rest of the squadron home and everyone else turns back to their jobs while she stands before the big board, holding a model of the Rising Star and shaking.

She's lost pilots before – it's a fact of her job – but never like this. Helo has taken over her status as number two to the CAG, and Lee no longer consults her about missions and CAP rotations. The only time she sees the people who used to make up her life are the rare occasions she ventures into the gym, and even then it's not without risking a lecture because the last time she took her frustrations out on the heavy bag she forgot the newfound weight dragging her down and the reverb from the first punch came at her like a thousand tons of pressure and hit her square in the belly and knocked her flat on her ass. She'd been fine, the thing in her belly had been fine, and Lee had been fine after he'd dragged her to her feet and yelled at her all the way to Doc Cottle's, but her life hadn't been fine.

She remembers the last time a pilot had died on her watch, and she'd watched his bird explode and said a prayer for his trip to Elysium, and turned her anger on the sucker who'd taken out one of her own. She'd brought down seven raiders that last time, and Kat had lent her the golden mug to commemorate the occasion. She'd emerged from her viper sweaty and smelly, but vindicated because she'd known those bats out of hell wouldn't be able to harm another human fighting so desperately to live.

When Mako's bird disappears in a burst of debris and flame she can't see but knows too well, the only thing she can do is listen to his screams while someone else picks up the pieces.

Her fingers close around the Rising Star and her knuckles turn white while Gaeta starts talking about an open channel between two meteors and out of the corner of her eye the old man shakes his head when the search and rescue team comes back empty handed. People – her people – are dying out there and all she can't lift a finger to help.

It isn't fair. It just isn't fair.

Gaeta's calling for her and she shakes her head and releases her grip on the model ship, and like a constant reminder of how good and well she's ruined her life, the thing in her belly kicks its presence and thuds silently against the rim of the map. She grimaces, shoves it all out of her mind, and tries to focus on the task at hand. She pushes the Rising Star through the channel and murmurs her agreement because the plan works.

Kara takes in the rest of the civilian fleet laid out before her and forces herself to focus and lead them to safety because they're her people now.

---

Three days after Mako's death the old man calls her into his office for a private conference. She assumes it has something to do with her job performance because she's still adjusting to saving the Fleet without her viper and sharing space with Tigh and feeling Dee's eyes boring into the back of her head. She knows she's doing okay, but feels she can do better, and prepares a speech while she treads through the corridors to Adama's private quarters.

The president isn't there, but Kara can smell a hint of her perfume in the air and the old man is smiling as he helps her to her seat. She doesn't bother protesting that she can do it herself. She's getting bigger with each passing day and running out of things to wear and thankful her bedroom consists of a bottom bunk because there's no way she'll be able to climb into the top ones for much longer.

"How are you feeling?" Adama asks her when she's settled into his couch and pondering how she'll climb out again when the meeting is over.

It's a standard question, one she's asked on a daily basis, and she has a stock answer already prepared. "I'm fine, sir," she says. "Some days are better than others."

Adama smiles indulgently, the paternal pride that's been missing from their relationship slowly creeping across his face. "Caroline was sick as a dog with Zak. She couldn't keep anything down for the first three months, and then it was guacamole and peanut butter until the day he was born."

Kara wrinkles her nose and they both laugh. "Still," she says through a giggle. "After living on processed algae for the last four months, guacamole and peanut butter sounds pretty tasty." She pauses for a moment, waits for the laughter to die down. "What about Lee?" She's not sure she really wants to know the answer, but she has to ask. She wants to know if every ounce of weight went straight to Caroline's butt, or if she craved peppermint ice cream or if he kicked extra hard right after a hot shower. She doubts Adama can tell her what she wants to hear, but she has to try.

Adama pauses too, and watches her as the smile drops from his face and eases into a longing smile. "Lee was easy."

She has to laugh, because it's exactly what she expected. "Why am I not surprised?" she mumbles under her breath and there's a similar expression on Adama's face.

"What about you, Kara?" he asks. "What are you feeling?"

She frowns because he just asked her the same question. "I just told you, I'm fine."

That paternal expression is back on his face and it's so much like it used to be that the irritation instantly slips away. "Physically, you might be fine, but how are you feeling, really feeling?" He reaches out and rests his hand on hers. "How does Kara Thrace feel about everything that's happened in her life?"

It would be easy, so easy, to tell him how terrified and scared and frustrated and angry and empty her life has become, but she's Kara Thrace and she cries for no one. Instead, she pastes on a smile and tells him that her life is different but she's adjusting and getting used to things. "I like working in the CIC," she lies. "I'm glad I can still help."

He nods but doesn't believe her. "What are you planning on doing when the baby is born?" he asks and she prides herself that she doesn't visibly react when he says that one particular word. She'd practiced, right after CAP changes when the fresh batch were shooting through the tubes and the exhausted pilots were dragging their tired bodies home, and the only people in the head were herself and the mirrors. She'd watched ten versions of herself say it and flinch and shudder and suck in pained breaths. She'd said it again, and again, until she could say it and hear it and breathe it and it wasn't any more than a word.

Words are meaningless. It's the actions that hold value.

When the Admiral asks her what her plans are, she pushes up the corners of that fake smile and tells him she's still considering her options. "I've heard there's an excellent daycare center on the Nymphiad," she says. "When I go back to CAP duty, I'll figure out an arrangement there." She keeps her voice calm and steady, like Dee on duty, and prides herself on a job well done.

"So you're planning on raising the baby on your own?" Adama's face is as blank as her tone, and she can't interpret what he's getting at.

"What other choice do I have?" she asks and winces, inwardly like she's practiced, because she can't quite keep the bitterness out of her tone and it's like her emotions are lit up on a billboard in downtown Caprica City for all to see.

"This is why I wanted to talk to you. I think there's an alternate solution."

She's slow to respond and winces again because the lights are flashing on her billboard and Kara Thrace never lays herself out to be this exposed. "What do you mean?" she manages to say, and the lights dim a bit because the emptiness is back in her tone.

"There's a couple on the Andromedan who'd like to start a family, and are looking to adopt. I already spoke to them, and they're lovely people." He looks up to meet her eyes and smile. "You'll like them. Nothing is set, but if you'd like, I can arrange a conference and you can meet them."

"You want me to give away baby." It's less a question and more a statement and she doesn't care about the emotion in her voice because she's too shocked to care.

His hand is back on her wrist, and his fingers lock and hold her shaking hand steady until she meets his eyes. His are soft and gentle, the way she remembers her father's. "I'm giving you an out, Kara. I'm not asking you to do this. I'm letting you know that if you want, the option is there. It's your choice."

Five months she's lugged herself around Galactica with the thing in her belly weighing her down, and never once considered that it wouldn't be hers to shoulder forever. She always assumed it was the gods' way of punishing her for loving a man who belonged to another woman and loving a man she betrayed time and time again and making a mockery of vows she promised to hold sacred, but now there's a light at the end of her tunnel.

She remembers another thing her mother gave her, before she learned that pain is love and the only person who can save her is herself, and hears her mother's words in her head, that the gods created sin so she might know forgiveness. She can't erase her mistakes, but she can prevent them from happening again.

She's not meant to be a mother; she's meant to save the world.

"Okay," she smiles, laughs even. "Okay."

For an instant, just an instant, the smile drops from Adama's face but he forces it back before she's sure it really happened and squeezes her hand with both of his. "I'll make the arrangements."

There's a spring in her step that's been missing the past few weeks, and she's able to pull herself off the couch on her own. She thanks the admiral and salutes, and she's at the hatch before he speaks to her again.

"Captain Thrace," he says, all traces of her father gone from his eyes. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

She hears her mother's words in her head and her fingers smashing in the doorjamb and she knows in her bones that another person doesn't need to take on the cancer that's Kara Thrace. She straightens her back and hauls herself to her full height, military precision directing her posture, and assures him that she's made up her mind. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

It's her voice that betrays her, and she doesn't need a blinking, flashing billboard to highlight the tremble that runs through her lie.

---

She likes David and Molly Taylor from the moment she lays eyes on them. Molly has blonde hair and bright eyes, and David has the warmest smile she's ever seen as he clasps her hands between his and tells her how honored he is to meet her.

"Wow, a pilot," Molly says when they're seated around Adama's private quarters, the president and old man looking on indulgently from the in back. "We're so thankful for all you've done for us," Molly adds. "You're a real hero, you know?"

Kara swallows thickly and resists the urge to rest on a hand on her belly where the thing inside is kicking. She's no one's hero anymore, but given time she thinks she can claw her way back to the top. "Thank you," she says in return and asks them what they do for a living. It's a stupid question, because careers don't exist anymore, but they both play along like it's a Caprican night shooting starbeams outside their window and not endless reaches of empty space.

Molly tells her that she's an artist, and David confesses a university attempt at Pyramid that evolved into a law career after a knee injury pushed him out of the running for the pros. Kara swallows the coincidence and tries to concentrate on the positive, that they're good people who've been married ten years and survived the end of the world and still believe in hope enough to think there's a future for a family. She believes it's a sign that these people are she and Lee and Sam all rolled into one, but without the baggage dragging them down.

She spends another half an hour listening to them talk about their dreams for the future, and they emphasize how that future is possible because of her. She smiles through it and feels Adama's eyes on her and after thirty minutes she stands because she has a shift in the CIC and needs to visit the head at least twice before it starts. She's heard enough to know these strangers are capable of everything she'll only fail at.

The Taylors are every kind of gracious as they say their goodbyes and a team of marines escort them to a shuttle back to their ship, but when Kara tries to stand to make her own way out, she can't quite lift herself off the couch. It's the president whose hand pulls her to her feet and asks her if she's all right.

The floor feels unsteady beneath her feet, and there's nothing about her weight that's any different than it was ten minutes ago, but she feels off balance, like she might fall.

Roslin holds her elbow while she finds her footing, adjusts to the world around her. "Captain Thrace, do you need a moment?"

"I'll be fine," Kara says because the response is automatic but it sounds hollow, even to her own ears. She blinks and the room is the same, but it looks a little different.

The Admiral takes her hand from Roslin's grip and escorts her to the doorway, squeezing her shoulder as the hatch springs open. "Kara, are you sure?" he asks and she forces the nod because she knows it's the right thing to do.

"It's for the best," she insists and forces her voice to sound like she means it.

She killed Zak, she killed Lee's marriage, and it's only a matter of time before she kills what's left of Sam – she can't ruin someone else.

---

She tells Lee and Sam together, and it's not unlike the last time she dropped a bomb on them. Sam sprawls in his chair in mismatched civvies, and Lee's back is ramrod straight even as he sinks inside his dress blues. They couldn't be more different, even as they gaze back at her with twin pairs of blue eyes and wait for her to drop the ball.

"I'm giving it up for adoption," she says and doesn't elaborate or explain further.

This time, Lee is the first to speak. "Kara, no. You can't make this decision for all of us."

She hopes, prays, Sam will back her up like a good spouse should but he's already more a father than a husband and his first priority is no longer her. "Kara, I agree. We can work this out."

Kara wants to scream but she can't, and her breath hisses between her lips and the sound is bitter and filled with four months of boiling frustration. "There's nothing to work out. My decision is final."

Kara's heard that Lee's been sticking his nose in the preparation for Baltar's trial, but it's still a surprise to her when he busts out with legal arguments. "We have rights, Kara," he says softly.

She wants to cry, but settles for a laugh instead. "One of you have rights, and we don't know which one." She looks pointedly at Sam. "You're Pyramid player whose wife might be knocked up by another guy." She looks at Lee and she doesn't want to say it but she has to say it because it's the argument that matters. "I can't forget what happened after Pegasus, Lee." Her voice is soft now, but steady and firm and she boldly meets the betrayal that flashes through his eyes. "I wish things were different, I really do. I wish I could wake up every morning and climb into my viper and shoot the hell out of those monsters, but I can't. I wish this hadn't happened, but it did. I wish we could do this, but it's not possible."

She sighs and feels the tears trembling behind her eyes because the broken expressions on both their faces is making this so much harder than she thought it would be, but she keeps holding firm. She blinks rapidly and the tears fall back a little bit, enough to get through this, because she her hormones are out of whack and the tiniest thing makes her spill like a leaky faucet, and she's practiced how to get through it like she's practiced everything else. "These people can give it a good life, a real family." Her voice breaks a little on the last word, but she won't look at either of them for fear of seeing the same aching feeling reflected in their eyes. "That's what we want, right?"

They don't fight her on it because she's right, at least about the last part. They both love the thing in her belly far more than she does, and they want what's best for it. She tells them about Molly and David Taylor, and Sam laughs at Dave's fallen Pyramid career and Lee lights up just the tiniest bit upon learning he's a lawyer, and both of them smile when she talks about Molly's art. Sam says they sound like wonderful people, and Lee says they sound nice. Neither of them sound like they mean it, but neither protest either.

They both look broken when Sam leaves to catch his shuttle, and Lee heads to the flight deck for the next CAP.

Sam kisses her forehead and his stomach bumps her belly and he rests a hand there for a moment even though the thing nestled there stays silent. He has to go because his shuttle is about to leave and the terms of his probation forbid him overstay his welcome. He'll be back at the end of the week for two-day stay, and she knows he'll try change her mind, spin tails of Sammy and Kara and baby makes three and adventures of the happy family Anders. She watches his retreating form, grateful she has a few days before weathering the storm.

Lee hangs around for an extra minute as Sam's footsteps rattle down the causeway, his shoulder propped up against the door. She tries to slip around him on her way to the CIC, but he's quick, even without her added weight, and he angles his body in front of her as she tries to slide past.

"Kara, we need to talk about this," he says and the betrayal his gone from his eyes and replaced with anger.

"Nothing to talk about," she insists. "My mind is made up." She decides to pick an argument from his personal playbook. "I'm the legal parent, Lee. Without definite paternity, Colonial law says I have sole custody. I get to choose, and I choose this."

If he makes the connection, he doesn't mention it. "Kara, come on! I'll work with you. We can split custody – split it three ways if that's what you want – but you can't just exchange our baby the way you do vipers."

She shudders, because Lee and Kara and baby makes three isn't a possibility in any reality. She was promised to his brother, and she married another man. Divorce isn't an option, but neither is a family Adama.

"Lee," she whispers. "We can't do this."

His lip trembles a little and his eyes crinkle and she knows the mighty Lee Adama is going to break down. "Kara, please don't do this to me."

Her eyes well up too and this time all the practice doesn't matter in the slightest because the tears spill down her cheeks and her shoulders shake and she cries like she hasn't cried since that first day four months ago. She feels Lee's arms slip around her and his stomach bumps her belly and the thing nestled in there kicks against the thin layer of skin and muscle separating them. She hears Lee suck in a breath and it eases out next to her ear, warm and familiar and alive. "Kara, don't take this away."

She closes her eyes and feels Lee's heart beating with hers, the thing between them kicking in time, and it sneaks up on her before she can suppress the feeling, duty and obligation and even a little bit of love. She's filled to the brim with ugly things and Lee's not even sure he wants to be alive and neither of them can hope to give a future to something so innocent and blameless.

She pulls away and his hand lingers over the expanse of her belly, the baby that may or may not be his beating furiously against a maybe father's fingers. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm its mother, and I need to do what's best."

Actions might hold value, but words aren't entirely meaningless either. It's the first time she's used the word and it's probably the last, but she says it because it's the only word that matters.

* * *

Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time. 


	4. Part II C: It Takes a Village

**Title:** "The Weight is a Gift"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Kara, with a little bit of everyone else

**Spoilers: **"Rapture" but veers AU with slight spoilers for "The Son Also Rises"

**Length:** Part II: C of III

**Summary:** Everyone has to grow up sometime, even Kara Thrace.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note:** So when I say this story is running away with itself, I'm not even kidding because this section was supposed to consist of one part and at the rate I'm going it's turning into five! Eeek! I'm very excited to post this part because there's a scene that was the very first thing I wrote for this fic, the scene that inspired the whole thing, and it's nice to finally get to it after so much build up! Thank you to everyone for your wonderful support for this story. Given my initial nervousness, I'm starting to feel very at home in this fandom. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**SIX **

Kara moves into her sixth month and moves out of the officers' quarters. Her bladder has turned on her like everything else, and she visits the head every hour, on the hour, all night long. The constant clang and scrape of the hatch drives the other pilots crazy and when two Pegasus recruits fall asleep during a briefing, Lee's had enough. A few days into her third trimester the Admiral calls her in for a private meeting and tells her he's moving her to her own quarters.

"The privilege is usually reserved for married couples," he looks pointedly at her bulging belly. "But I think we'll make an exception in your case. You'll want privacy now that you've entered the final stretch."

She smiles tightly, because she's never thought of her mess in Pyramid terms. "So that's what they're calling it these days." She picks absently at a loose thread on her ragged sweatshirt, and avoids the old man's eyes. The shirt fits tightly across her belly and the seams are bulging slightly, but it's the best she can do. Clothing in the Fleet comes in a limited supply while running for their lives, but it's even harder for a body that keeps changing. She grits her teeth against another unwelcome change in her life and finally meets the Admiral's eyes. "I guess I don't have a choice."

He smiles, tries to make it better for her. "It's only temporary, Captain. After the birth you can return to the officers' quarters and your old life." He pauses and something changes in his eyes, something almost angry. "Only a few months to go and it will be like it never happened."

She feels as if she's been slapped even though he hasn't touched her. It's his turn not to look at her and he ducks his head, but not before she catches the disappointment in his eyes. She stiffens, freezes inside, because it's like looking at her mother and feeling burning pain inch its way down her arm and slice into her knuckles with each wail of the belt against her skin. The thing in her belly kicks to life and she's reminded again of how grateful she is that the same pain won't be passed onto the next generation.

Her breathing quickens and her chest feels tight, thinking about the past and the ways she's avoiding it happening again in the present, and tells herself it's the crazy hormones making her eyes burn and her heart feel heavy. She ignores how normal it feels having the thing in her belly strike a steady tattoo against the walls of its home; she pretends her heartbeat doesn't skip the tiniest beat when that solid rhythm disappears for half a second.

She closes her eyes and thinks of something happy, anything happy, and sees her viper shooting through the tubes and the adrenaline thumping in her veins and the flash against her eyes when the raiders burst into flames. Only three months to go and the old man's prediction will be living, breathing life. She feels better already.

When she opens her eyes the Admiral isn't looking at her, but there's a guilty expression on his face and he sighs heavily. "I'm sorry, Kara. Is there anything you need?"

"For this to be over," she wants to say, but she just shakes her head, hair whipping against her face. It's getting long, the longest it's been since New Caprica, and without military regs forcing her to keep it back at all times it's beginning to creep past her chin and inch towards her shoulders. She's still getting used to the different length and pushes it behind her ears, drawing the hem of her sweatshirt to ride up over her belly.

The Admiral's eyes drop involuntarily and lock on the patch of exposed skin. It's like the day she told Sam and Lee, but different, because her belly was flat and taunt back then and it was all like a bad dream they could wake up from every day. Today her belly bulges and flexes as the thing inside beats an irregular rhythm against her skin. With the proof staring straight at them, there's no avoiding her living nightmare.

She and the admiral have never discussed his connection to the pregnancy, that it may or may not be his grandchild she's carrying, but with the truth exposed to the world he can't hide the wonder creeping across his face. He tries to hide it, because he knows how she feels about it all, but he can't quite hide the awe in his expression.

Her breathing quickens and her chest gets tight, thinking about the past and Zak spinning dreams about their future together, and she tells herself it's the crazy hormones making her eyes burn and her heart feel heavy. He'd talked about having an entire pack of kids and she'd gone along with it because she'd loved him enough to give him whatever he'd wanted. She ignores that it's a different world and a different brother that created this shot at life; she pretends it's anything but joy lurking within the Admiral's eyes.

"I'm perfect," she manages to say and drags her sweatshirt over the rise of her belly. She wants – needs – this conversation to be over because she can't stand the future she sees in the old man's eyes because the thing in her belly is going to people that love it and will protect it and will keep it safe. No one in her world – their world – can guarantee the same.

The Admiral looks sad as he escorts her to the new quarters, and the lines at his eyes and mouth seem more pronounced in the dingy light. He keeps glancing at her belly, safely covered by the too-tight sweatshirt, and his mouth quirks into the faintest hint of a smile when a foot or a flailing fist sends ripples across the fabric. He loses years from his face, and Kara thinks she's seeing the Admiral before Galactica and before the end of the world, and the bright, shiny things Lee claims don't exist. She ignores how her breathing quickens and her chest feels tight.

The light is still dim, but she thinks she sees tears in his eyes and broken dreams that rival his dead son's, but he keeps his resolve and brushes her hair back from her face and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Stay safe," the Admiral says when he tells her goodnight and she knows he isn't talking about just herself.

The hatch closes and she's alone for the first time in years. Her new quarters look remarkably like her old quarters, only there's a single bed where rows of racks used to be, and the clanging of the hatch seems to echo through the empty room. It takes her all of two minutes before she's gasping for processed air in the causeway. She takes on an extra shift in the CIC and watches the CAP dart across the dradis monitor and does anything and everything to avoid going back to her new quarters. It's Tigh who eventually sends her home, and she's too tired to protest even though it's barely after midnight, because the thing in her belly has sapped her energy along with everything else.

She brushes her teeth in the shared head, even though she has a private bathroom, because she's not ready to move her things and she likes the constant flow of pilots coming in between shifts. It makes her feel connected, even just barely, to her old world. When she finally gives into sleep, she can't remember a time when she's closed her eyes without another person breathing beside her. She waits for the ebbs and flows of the other pilots' breath to fill the space, or Sam's heart beating in time with hers down on New Caprica, or even Leoben's skin crawling presence filling the nooks and crannies of her prison, but there's nothing but painful silence filling the empty space.

She pulls her blanket tighter around her shoulders and burrows underneath, enjoying the crinkle of the fabric because it blots out the emptiness surrounding her. She peeks out and her eyes adjust to the rim of light peeking around the hatch's edge and the room is familiar in its accordance with military regulations, but she's never felt so alone in her entire life.

She breaths in deep, breathes out, practices the structured breaths Doc Cottle has been encouraging her to prepare for the day she doesn't want to think about, but it doesn't help. Without the others surrounding her, the air pumping in and out in time, she feels even less a pilot than she does logging shifts in the CIC. She feels tears pulling at the corners of her eyes and knows it has nothing to do with the hormones driving her crazy. She takes another deep breath and it doesn't help more than the last one, but she tells herself to get it together because she's Kara Thrace, and while she's never had to face it so directly, she's always been alone.

The thing in her belly kicks to life, and the thumping of its limbs feels a bit like pilots breathing in time with each other. She wraps her arms around her belly and it's a little like Sam holding her tight against his chest on a warm New Caprican night, and she feels the beat in her pulse match the rhythmic beat against her belly.

She slumps against her pillow and feels sleep tugging at the corners of her eyelids. She ignores the promises she's made and the decisions she's going to see through, and lets thing in her belly lull her into dreamland.

She wraps her arms tighter around her belly, a tiny foot or fist beating against her pulse, and tells herself she'll never be alone again.

-----

Kara doesn't realize how much of her life consists of other people until they're no longer a part of it. Doc Cottle revokes her gym pass and her exercise routine is limited to slow walks through the causeways. She still takes her meals intravenously and soon finds her only regular company is Doc Cottle and Gaeta. She's still helping steer the Fleet's course and she likes it because it means she's contributing, but it's slow going and it's boring and it makes her yearn even more for her life to be hers again.

She sleeps in her new quarters as ordered but she can't bring herself to clean out her locker and dress in private, even with all the eyes locked on her belly and pretending to look anywhere else, because she soaks up the pilot chatter and it makes her feel a part of it again, just the littlest bit, because knowledge is power and even if she can't play it helps just to know. She likes hearing about Racetrack breaking in a new recruit and Hoshi falling prey to nugget pranks and the little details that used to be her life.

When Kelly tells her that he needs the locker for a Pegasus pilot recently promoted to officer, she swallows the feeling that she's being replaced. The Admiral promised her – promised her – her old job when she gets back on her feet, and she's holding him to it. She knows it's temporary, because they need someone to pick up the slack as Lee veers closer to lawyer and further from security detail, but it still hurts. She throws an expert salute and nods her consent but puts it off as long as possible because cleaning out her locker means giving up the last vestiges of her old life and she isn't ready for that yet.

Kelly gives her a week before threatening to do it himself and it's Helo who finds her crying inside her locker the afternoon she gives in and cuts the apron strings and accepts that Starbuck the viper jock is just Kara Thrace the screw up. She's curled against the door, her shoulder rubbing against the damned photograph she hates but can't bring herself to get rid of either, and her forehead is pressed tight against the shelf filled with the gods who've chosen to ignore her. It's not fair, it's still not fair, because she's doing the right thing and making the right sacrifices and they continue to punish her. Athena watches her, olive wreath ringing her brow, and Kara looks to her for the answers but comes up empty handed.

She thought she'd timed it right, so she could get in and avoid an encounter, but there's a noise, and Helo's there. He doesn't say anything when their eyes lock in the mirror an inch or two above the photo of the Adama brothers who've caused her nothing but trouble, and she's too embarrassed and annoyed to do more than angrily brush tears from her cheeks.

She never wanted anyone to see her like this, broken and falling to pieces like a nugget her first time out. She has an image to maintain and a life to reclaim and it doesn't include crying in the locker room while everyone else is out living her life. Helo doesn't say anything about the tears or the agony in her eyes, but she thinks she sees pity in his and she can't take it because no one feels sorry for Kara Thrace accept herself. She's awkward, with the weight in her belly dragging her down, but she's still quick when she needs to be and her hand is at Helo's throat before he can draw his next breath. "You tell anyone about this, and I'll kill you, I swear to the…" her voice breaks on a whimper. "Just please, don't tell anyone, okay? It's the hormones. It's not my fault."

Helo gasps a little and prys at her fingers. "Think we can do this without my life on the line?" he asks and his fingers lock around hers and pull away from his throat to rest at their sides.

"You scared me," she says as a means of apology and straightens up to her full height to confront him. "What are you doing in here anyway? Don't you have private quarters to play house?" There's a bite in her question, and Helo frowns at her and she's about two steps away from pushing him away too. She tells herself to get used to it because Kara Thrace is nothing if she's not alone.

Helo watches her warily and rubs his neck. "I saw you come in here, and I was worried. I haven't seen you for weeks, Kara. I'm getting really concerned."

She sneers at him and for a moment she thinks she sees Starbuck looking back at her in the mirror. She slams the locker door closed and locks her gods inside, leaning back against it because it's getting hard resting all that weight on her feet and she needs the support. She can't keep going on like this. "I don't want your pity," she bites out and Helo crosses his arms across his chest and looks as if he's resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"You haven't got it," he says and she blinks because she remembers having this same conversation with Lee a lifetime ago, before New Caprica and before the dance and before life got more complicated than either of them ever predicted. "Kara, I'm your friend," he continues and she feels the tears pressing against her eyelids because Helo is saying things Lee's said and doing things he should be doing if she only hadn't pushed him that one step too far. Helo picks up her hand and holds it in his and its steadying and comforting and she sags a little against it. "I've been through this before, remember?" His thumb is stroking gently across her palm and some of the tension in her shoulders eases a bit. "You'll be okay."

She laughs, but there's none of her Starbuck giggle in it. "Okay? Sure, Helo, definitely okay." She gestures to the swell of her belly and the body she doesn't recognize and the tears threaten to spill down her cheeks again. "Nothing is going to be okay ever again."

His fingers tighten around hers and he smiles. "I'm with you, Kara. You're going to get through this. I promise."

She closes her eyes and rests her head against her locker and the metal feels cool and familiar against her skin, because it's housed everything she's owned for as long as she's mattered. She remembers the day she burst into the locker room, confident and cocky and determined to get her way. She'd been the only girl in a batch of boys, but the male pilots had moved out of the mighty Starbuck's way to let her claim her space. "Kelly's making me clean out my locker."

Helo shrugs. "I heard you have a swanky new space all your own. I know you forget sometimes, but you're a girl, Kara. Isn't space for your shoes in your blood or something?"

She smiles at the joke and opens her eyes. "This is my home, Helo. When I give it up, there's nothing making me a pilot anymore."

He keeps holding her hand and brings it to rest over the wings pinned to his uniform. "You still have your wings. As long as you have them, you'll always be a pilot. You're Starbuck, Kara. You belong in the air."

"I don't feel like Starbuck anymore." She feels the tears at the back of her eyes again and it takes everything in her to keep them from spilling again. Hormones or not, she's spent too much time crying over things she can't change. "I don't know who I am at all."

Helo slides their hands over her waist to rest on her belly, right over the bump where her bellybutton pushes against her skin. "You're a mom, Kara, that's what you are. A mom who's gonna kick some serious cylon ass when you get back in your bird." She flinches, because he doesn't know about the choice she's made or the life that won't belong to her when the nine months are over, but he holds his hand tight, and the thing in her belly chooses the exact moment to kick. He's smiling at her and his eyes are warm and crinkle a little at the corners and it's the same expression she remembers him wearing the day in the hangar bay when he held his daughter for the first time. "You're not alone, Kara," he says and his hand pushes hers flat, so she feels it, every bit of the life she keeps safe.

This time, when the tears come she doesn't bother to hide them and she curls into his arms the way he cradled Hera. "I know you still think of yourself as Starbuck, but you can't do this by yourself. There's no weakness in accepting help." He pulls away and stares straight into her tear-clouded eyes. "You know that, right?"

She doesn't know but thinks she can maybe learn. She pushes her mother's voice out of her mind and buries her face in Helo's chest, listening to his heart beat steadily beneath her ear. He's the best person she knows, and if he can believe in her she thinks she can believe in herself.

The thing in her belly kicks again and they laugh together, because it's weird, and she pulls back to look in his eyes. "Thank you," she says and she means it because even if it's not what she wants, it's what she needs to do.

-----

Two days later Sharon appears at her door holding a torn and battered duffel bag, and Kara steps aside as best she can to let her squeeze by and into the private quarters. They're friends again, sort of, because they both love Helo, but Kara's still surprised to see her.

"Hi," Sharon says softly and her fingers twine nervously around the strap of her bag as she sits in a chair while Kara sprawls on her rack. "How are you feeling?"

Kara sits up and peers at the face her best friend once wore. Sharon's hair is pulled back but a stray piece keeps flipping across her forehead and into her eyes, just like Boomer's did a lifetime ago, and she's wearing the same smile that would turn from sympathetic to mischievous in a heartbeat, but she's wearing a wedding ring that didn't come from the Chief and there's a light in her eyes that's different from Boomer's. There's a peace in Sharon Agathon that Boomer only hoped to find, and it's admirable and unnerving all at the same time.

"I'm doing okay," Kara finally says and feels a little awkward in Sharon's presence, because they're not the same people they used to be and to make matters worse, the only clothes Kara can fit into these days is Sharon's husband's castoff sweatshirt with a tear down the shoulder seam.

Sharon looks uncomfortable too, but pastes on that sympathetic smile that makes Kara's heart clutch a little from remembering people and places and a life that no longer exist, and drops the bag on the bed next to Kara. "I brought you something."

Kara eyes her oddly, because she and Sharon are barely on speaking terms let alone exchanging gifts, but opens the duffel to reveal an assortment of clothing. "What's this?"

Sharon smiles and fingers a long-sleeved shirt. "Maternity clothes. Karl told me you're having trouble finding things that fit so I thought you might want to borrow some of mine." Kara sifts through the clothes, wondering where they came from and why Sharon is giving them to her. "It's not much," Sharon continues when an awkward silence starts to fill the room. "But I think they'll still help. There were a couple babies born on New Caprica, but everyone left everything they owned behind when they were rescued." She smiles to break up the silence. "I hope my second-hand stuff is okay."

Kara doesn't know what to say, so she uses words that don't come naturally for her and finds her the gratitude in her smile isn't forced. "Thank you, Sharon," she says, and Sharon reaches out to squeeze her hand in respsonse. They both freeze, their skin touching and melding together, and Sharon's hand is soft and warm under Kara's and so real that for a moment she forgets there are wires and circuits holding Sharon together under the layers of flesh and bone. She wants to pull away but she sees the hopeful expression in Sharon's eyes, the yearning to belong, and Kara understands too well so she holds on and squeezes back.

"Tell me, Kara, how are you really feeling?" Sharon asks, hands still holding tight, and Kara's been asked the question before and she has a stock answer all prepared, but with Sharon watching her with Boomer lurking in her eyes she's finding it hard to hold it together. When she doesn't answer, Sharon tries again. "Kara, I've been through this myself. If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you." She squeezes Kara's hand again to let her know she means it. "I understand what you're going through."

It's a like a dam breaking inside because Sharon might be the only person who really, truly knows. The Admiral has stood by her and Sam won't let go of her and Lee still loves her and Helo has supported her, but none of them really know what it's like to be her. She tries to remember when Helo turned up alive with Sharon in tow and she'd thought she was losing her mind because her friend was supposed to be dead and Boomer was too, and suddenly they were both alive and happy to see her and one of them wasn't even human. She remembers the joy in Helo's eyes when he told her about the pregnancy and the disgust welling up in throat and the silent pleading in Sharon's eyes to let her live because she might have destroyed Kara's world, but her baby was innocent. She drops a hand to her own belly, the hurt in Sam's eyes and the betrayal in Lee's flashing through her mind, and smiles at the thumping pressing against her palm. "I'm really scared," she manages to say. "Really, really scared Sharon. I don't know what to do."

Sharon smiles back and there's an ease, a serenity in it that never belonged to Boomer, and she's finally in a comfort zone because unplanned pregnancies are something she knows well. "Yeah," she sighs. "I know the feeling. Where I come from," she continues and Kara resists the urge to bark an angry retort because it's not like she's just from Aerelon anymore. "We don't know anything about babies." She moves her hand away and folds them in her lap, her fingers twisting around one another so her ring catches the light and she rubs it against her thumb like a source of strength. "When they told me to get pregnant, it was like any other mission. I didn't expect to fall in love in the process."

Kara's confused, because she thought that was the missing ingredient. "But I thought you said you need love – "

"I'm not talking about Karl," Sharon says and the smile starts creeping back over her face. "I'm talking about Hera. At first, it was just a pain in the ass. I couldn't keep anything down and I was tired all the time and I didn't understand what the big deal was. We had our downloading process, so I didn't see the need to go through all that. Then one day, I felt this little flutter deep inside." She looks at Kara knowingly and Kara remembers the feeling, sees Lee's eyes glaze over when he pressed his hand against her belly and the thing inside made its presence known. "I didn't realize what a pregnancy meant until then. I didn't realize that there was a new life growing inside me, a part of me, and it was up to me to keep it safe. I don't think I knew what love was, unconditional, endless love, until that moment." She looks deep into Kara's eyes and Kara has to resist the urge to flinch because she doesn't see any of Boomer there. "It had nothing to do with being a cylon either. It had to do with being a mother. It creeps up on you when you're least expecting it, this deep love that overwhelms you and drives you and won't let you go. It's okay to be afraid, Kara. It's okay to make mistakes. It's the love that will see you through."

Kara blinks because she isn't looking at Sharon, she's looking at Athena, and she suddenly realizes how fitting the call sign is for her newfound friend. "That's the part I'm afraid of," she whispers, and it has nothing to do with the guilt or the promises she's made, but the things she hates inside herself. "What if I can't love it?"

Athena glances down, at Kara's hands locked tightly over her belly. "You already do." She glances at her watch and grimaces, stands up to leave. "I'm late for my shift, but I'm glad we had the chance to talk. If you need anything – anything – just let me know."

Kara nods wordlessly because she isn't ready to talk, and barely notices when Athena wraps her arms around her and pulls her in for a hug. "You'll be okay," she echoes her husband and it's eerie watching her, because she wears her former friend's face and laughs the same laugh, but she's an entirely different person.

Kara looks at herself in the mirror after Athena leaves and feels a bit like a different person herself. She wears Starbuck's face and laughs her laugh and even smiles the same cocky grin, but she feels the thing in her belly shift and something she barely recognizes shoots spears through her chest and clamps around her heart. It's different than the early days when she wore Zak's ring, or the long months she thought Sam was dead, or standing in a field and freezing her ass off and never feeling more alive while shouting declarations with Lee. It's new and it's scary and it doesn't go away.

Promises be damned, she doesn't think it ever will.

* * *

**SEVEN **

Her seventh month begins and she can't sleep. Athena tells her its normal over lunch one day, their legs swinging together against the metal gurney in the sickbay, because it's hard to find a comfortable position when she's carrying what feels like half her body weight in her belly and she's still hitting the head every hour, on the hour.

"Learn to nap," Athena advises. "The last thing any of us need is you acting crankier than usual."

They laugh at the joke and it's nice to feel included again. Athena and Helo have been pushing her and she's been making occasional trips to the rec room for a game of Triad. Lee's sign still hangs and there's still the smell of stale smoke in the room, but no one pulls out a cigar or even a flask of Ambrosia while she's around, and Helo's stern gaze keeps the gossip to a minimum. She's too tired to protest or let Starbuck out, and tries to enjoy herself while someone else fights her battles.

She takes Athena's advice and reduces her shifts in the CIC. Gaeta doesn't need her as much and even without the pilots' progress steadily chirping in her ears, she doesn't miss it nearly as much as she thought she would. The thing in her belly keeps her busy, and she finds herself spending more time feeling a foot or a flailing fist punch against her skin than she ever did worrying about how she could save what was left of the world.

But she still can't sleep.

She tosses and turns as best she can, but one night she's had enough and sneaks onto the observation deck to stare at what used to be her life. They're moving through free space and the stars twinkle and shine and she presses close so her nose is up against the glass and wonders if one of them is earth and the bright, shiny futures Lee doesn't believe exist. Everything looks so innocent, so peaceful and when a flicker of red catches her eye her breath freezes in her chest before she realizes it's only a cloud moving across the face of an unknown planet. She breathes out and laughs, because she still thinks like a pilot even though she hasn't been in a viper for months. She waits to feel the hole in her heart spring open as she watches the CAP zip by and it hurts, it does, but she rests her hands on her belly and the burn eases.

There's a noise behind her and she expects to see Helo's concerned face waiting for her, but she turns and finds herself staring at Cally instead.

She doesn't see much of her these days, because they never had a real relationship before, and she's never on the flight deck anymore, and thinking back she's not sure she's ever had a conversation with the woman that didn't have to do with viper maintenance. Cally's wearing her pajamas and her hair is messy, and she doesn't look all that different from Kara because she's cradling her son in her arms the way Kara keeps her arms locked around her belly.

"Hi," she whispers, shifting her son against her shoulder and grimacing a little under his weight. The kid has to be almost a year old, and Kara's never realized it before, but with twenty pounds of weight dragging her down, how tiny Cally really is. Her arms tighten around her own belly because she'll never have the chance to find out for herself what it's like to balance that weight.

"Hi," she says in return and Cally's expression shifts into a nervous smile.

"I didn't mean to bother you, but Nicky's been having trouble sleeping and Galen needs his sleep so we come in here sometimes until he settles down. We can go if you'd like." She glances past Kara, at the vipers and stars dueling in blank space, and Kara keeps her face blank against Cally's questioning look.

"No," Kara says. "It's not like I own the deck. You should stay."

Cally still looks nervous, but she comes down the staircase and stands next to Kara, her sleeping son drowsing on her shoulder. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asks and with the moonlight falling across her face she doesn't look much older than a teenager. "It's hard to imagine earth is out there somewhere," she says and there's a hopeful, naïve note in her voice that matches the expression on her face.

Kara stifles a laugh, because the thing in her belly has proven that there are no guarantees in life, and it's hard to believe through the Admiral's lies that there's something better waiting for them. "Maybe," she concedes. "Maybe not. Doesn't mean we're going to see it though."

Cally presses a kiss to her son's forehead. "I believe we will. There has to be something better out there than this."

"You don't like saving the world?" Kara asks and there's some of Starbuck's sting in her words, and she's reminded why she's never spent much time in Cally's presence. The girl is as whiny and irritating as she remembered, and she can't begin to understand what the Chief sees in her.

Cally shrugs. "I got into this to pay for dental school." Kara glares at her, but there's a teasing light in Cally's eyes and Kara's shocked she has as sense of humor. "I don't mind my job, and I like making a contribution, and I like saving the world." She brushes her son's hair off his forehead and the teasing light in her eyes fades into something else. "But I need to believe there's something else out there." She looks away from her son and right at Kara. "You know the drill: get up, save the world, go to sleep, and get ready to do it all over again. Nicky deserves more." She eyes the bulge of Kara's belly. "They all deserve more. Sometimes I wake up and I don't want to do it anymore, because what's the point? Every time I fix a viper there's three more in its place and another pilot to scrape off the wings. Then I look at Nicky and he doesn't know any of that, and I keep my fingers crossed that he never will." Cally looks out at the vipers dogfighting and the stars twinkling. "It's gonna end someday, you know? I keep doing my part so Nicky's there to see it."

Kara thinks she sees a little of what Cally's describing in the endless expanse of space, fresh air on her face and a breeze ruffling her hair and the warm weight of the future cradled in her arms. The promises she's made seem to melt away and even though Lee's assured her that bright, shiny futures don't exist, when has she ever let him be right without a fight? "It's a nice dream," she tells Cally because it is a dream, and either way it's never going to come true, because she's made a promise and when this is over she's climbing back into her viper and the bright, shiny future might be waiting but not for her.

"Maybe some day it will be a reality." Her son stirs in her arms, and Cally whispers against his forehead and croons in his ear, but he's wide awake and whimpering. "He's hungry," Cally explains. There's a bag over one shoulder, but she can't reach it with the baby in her arms, and she holds him out to Kara. "Do you mind holding him?" she asks. "Just for a second, until I get his bottle."

She doesn't have much choice, so she takes him between her palms and hoists him on her hip like she did Kasey so many months ago. He's heavy, but she's used to added weight, and he's warm and soft and smells like the future when she breathes in. He curls into her side and drags a hand through her hair, catching his fingers in the strands moving closer to her shoulders. "Ouch," she whimpers and Cally glances up worriedly, but she pulls his hand out of her hair before she loses any. His palm is tiny compared to hers and amazing that one day he'll grow up and be bigger than she is. She peers at him in the moonlight, and he has Cally's chin but the Chief's eyes and she can't help but wonder what the thing in her belly will look like. She imagines Lee's eyes and her nose, pictures Sam's mouth and his ears, and pushes the thoughts out of her mind because she'll never know for sure because she won't be there when it grows into itself.

Cally taps her shoulder and there's a plastic cup in her hand, and she's watching them with a gentle expression on her face. "You're good with him," she says and hands the cup to her son. He sucks on the top and grins at his mother and they both laugh at the look of complete bliss slipping across his face.

Kara watches the way Nicky watches his mother and it's enough to make her keel over, seeing the love reflected in their eyes. She wonders what it's like for someone to love her that much, to believe in her so completely, and decides it's better that she'll never know because she can't bear to let another person down because she's Kara Thrace and that's what she does.

She hands him back to his mother and he twines a hand in Cally's hair and she winces and pulls at his wrist. "Easy, Nicky. Mommy likes her hair." He doesn't let go, but he loosens his grip and Kara enviously watches the easy rapport between them. "How are you feeling?" Cally asks and Kara gives her the stock answer.

"I'm doing okay."

Cally smiles. "It's hard the last few months. You can't see your feet and everything's swelled up like a balloon and you just want your body back." She hugs her son close. "Then it's over and you get one of these and it's all worth it."

Kara just nods, because her decision isn't public knowledge and she's enjoying herself too much to tell the truth and disappoint someone else, even if it's Cally. "We'll see," she concedes.

"I have some off-time tomorrow," Cally says and Kara is confused because she doesn't know where this conversation is going. "There aren't a lot of moms on Galactica and Cottle's a good doctor, but he doesn't really know about the other side of the things."

"Okay…"

"You should come by, hang with me and Nicky for a little while. He isn't a newborn, but I can show you what it's like to take care of a baby." There must be something mean in Kara's eyes because Cally shrinks back a little and the smile starts to fade from her face. "It's just an idea. You don't have to come…" she trails off but Kara isn't paying attention because she's still looking at the love in Nicky's eyes and wanting it for herself.

"No," Kara interjects because she can't stop wondering if she can have the same thing. "I'd love to come."

Cally looks surprised, but she pushes her mouth back into a smile and shifts her son on her hip. "Great! I pick Nicky up from daycare at 15:00. Come by any time after then." She glances down at her son and his head is lolling against her shoulder and the cup is forgotten in his hand and he's finally asleep. "I better get home. We'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure," Kara says and has to rip her eyes away from the future sleeping in Cally's arms.

She turns back to the stars and tries to see what Cally sees, squints to prove Lee's wrong, because maybe bright, shiny things exist out there after all.

* * *

Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time. 


	5. Part II D: It's Not Enough to Survive

**Title:** "The Weight is a Gift"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** R

**Character/Pairing:** Kara, with a little bit of everyone else

**Spoilers:** "Rapture" but veers AU with spoilers through "Crossroads: Part II"

**Length:** Part II: D of III

**Summary:** Everyone has to grow up sometime, even Kara Thrace.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note **I know it's been a long, long time since the last update, but grad school has totally kicked my ass (and won), and it took a cold and lying in bed for a few days and a viewing of "Waitress" to get my act in gear and work on the fic. So hurray, part two is done! This is it, the last section before Kara has the baby, and we complete our journey. This section is a little different than the previous ones because the love triangle, or whatever it is, is at the forefront. This fic isn't a romance, but Kara's relationships with the two men in her life play an important role in her growth process, and I wanted to take some time and figure that out before she moves forward. Thank you again for the wonderful feedback for this fic – I often struggle with completing multipart fics, but consistent support is the best way to keep me going! I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**EIGHT**

Her due date gets closer and Kara gets bigger. She keeps a calendar in her new quarters and marks each passing day in bright red ink, one step closer to the end, one step closer to freedom. She works half shifts in the CIC now, and falls into an uneasy routine with Gaeta. There's tension between them, thick and heavy and hard to escape in the narrow confines of the CIC; impossible to escape with her ever expanding girth clogging the aisles. At first she tells herself it's about Dee, because they're friends and he's been her shoulder to cry on and his loyalty lies with the wife, not the mistress.

It turns out it has nothing to do with Dee and everything to do with the time she almost let her husband and Tigh and a bunch of grief-obsessed refugees shove him out an airlock.

The president and her panel set a date for Baltar's trial, and Gaeta's mouth tightens and his eyes blaze as they listen to the announcement over the com. "I hope they airlock his ass," she mutters under her breath as the announcer continues reading the day's news, and across the tactics board Gaeta stiffens. She's confused, because she knows he hates Baltar as much as she does – he tried to kill the man after all – but the fury in his eyes only darkens as they lock on her.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he hisses and she blinks, because it isn't the reaction she'd expected. She knows they're not friends and he totally hates her because of what happened with Dee, but she also thought they'd reached a truce over their long months of working the board. His fingers tighten around a model of Colonial One and he takes a deep breath, not unlike the ones she and Athena practice every afternoon during lunch, and the tight set of his mouth loosens a bit. "Let's just get back to work." He doesn't mention the trial again but the bitter anger doesn't leave his eyes either, and she can't ignore a feeling of guilt that creeps up into her chest.

It's not she hears mention of possible punishments for Baltar over the radio in Cottle's waiting room that everything clicks into place. She remembers the brave, terrified glaze in Gaeta's eyes when they'd pushed him to his knees and threatened to send him into oblivion. She hadn't said a word of protest because back then she'd believed the world could only be seen in black and white because there was no room for shades of gray, not with cylons who looked like humans wanting them dead and gone. She'd ignored the pride in his eyes, concentrated on his crimes and ignored her own, because she was a pilot and they called her a hero and they didn't know about the ugly, black thing that lived inside her. She thinks she gets it now, how people change and circumstances are never the same, because she's no longer a pilot but she's still a hero, and humanity will live no matter what she's like inside.

She remembers a snippet of tape from that long ago film by D'Anna Biers, before they learned how deceiving appearances could be, and spends the next week searching high and low, falling back on the Starbuck charm she long buried beneath layers of baby and bone, and tracks down a box of the finest Caprican cigars. She's never been very good at apologies, and she isn't sure there's a way to say, "sorry for almost killing you," so she wraps a tattered piece of sweatshirt around the box and leaves it at Gaeta's station on the day he turns twenty-five.

He doesn't say anything, because there's really no way to say, "thanks for saying you're sorry for trying to kill me," but he smiles at her the next morning when she waddles to the tactics board, and the morning after that there's a cigar laying on her station, a bit of blue cloth tied in a neat bow. "Only a month left to go, right?" he asks and smiles at her, and it's the first time he's smiled at her since they started working together. Across the room, Dee glares at them both, but Kara's getting used to carrying that burden and Dee's eyes no longer burn.

"Yeah, about six weeks more."

He smiles again, and there's something soft and sympathetic in his eyes. "When you're ready, save that one for me, okay? We'll celebrate." He smiles again before turning back to the board, and she realizes it was forgiveness she saw a moment earlier.

The shift ticks by, but the tension dissipates and eases into something like companionship. There isn't a pinched annoyance shaping his lips when he moves a model for her, and when she looks at him there isn't hatred staring back.

One day she hopes she can look in the mirror, past the swollen cheeks and jaw that seems to be sinking into the folds of her chin, and see the same thing.

---

With reduced time in the CIC, she fills her days with the people that make up Galactica. She has lunch every day with Athena and watches Hera sleep every Friday night so her parents can have time to themselves, and her life falls into a familiar pattern. She likes the routine of it all, even if she's watching other people's babies rather than saving the world. She tells herself it's a variation of the same thing, because these babies will build the future and that's what being a pilot was all about – giving humanity another chance to make it right.

Athena agrees to be her lamaze coach because she can't bring herself to ask Lee or Sam, because it's hard enough with them tagging along to all her doctor's appointments, and she's not sure she can handle them holding her hands through the birth too. She doesn't want to see the looks of awe in their eyes or the tears that will undoubtedly creep down Lee's cheeks or the whispers of adoration Sam will press into her hair, so Athena's the one to hold her hand and set the rhythm of her breathing while Helo watches proudly. She can handle Helo because Athena owns his heart; she can't handle her boys because she doesn't know which one owns hers.

She spends her mornings in the CIC with Gaeta and her afternoons with Cally and Nicky. She still doesn't think she and Cally will ever be friends, but she's less irritating when she's blathering on about her kid and isn't whining about life on the flightdeck. Kara learns how to change a diaper and mash up processed algae and prepare a bath for a life she'll never care for herself. She smiles while Cally prattles on about temperature and drowning in an inch of water, and takes mental notes because she never knows when childcare survival tips will come in handy. She watches Kasey on occasion because Julia's joined the deckcrew as a way of saying thanks for rescuing her from New Caprica, and every now and then she liberates Kasey from daycare and thinks about what might have been.

Kara doesn't miss the food or the clothes and she definitely doesn't miss Leoben or even the triumph that soared through her veins every time she twisted the knife into his ribs, but sometimes she misses the way Kasey used to watch her. She remembers the look in the little girl's eyes, the pure, open trust and devotion, and the belief that everything would be okay because she was there to save her. For gods' sake, she let her tumble down a flight of stairs and split her head open, and Kasey still clung to her thumb like a lifeline.

Sometimes at night she feels the thing in her belly kicking an even rhythm with her pulse and lulling her to sleep, and she imagines that first day when she pushes a new life into the world and the Doc folds it into her arms and it looks up at her with that same blind trust in its eyes. She wonders if she looked at her own mother the same way, and what made the light go out in Socrata Thrace's eyes. She's thankful at the end of the day that she can slip Kasey into Julia Prynne's arms, and know that when her mother pulls the blanket to Kasey's chin and brushes soft curls from her scarred forehead, there will only be love staring back at her former daughter.

When it's all said and done and her belly is empty the way it used to be – the way it should be – she doesn't want to hold the thing that lived inside it. She doesn't want to stare into its eyes and for it to see anything but love staring back.

---

One night Helo and Athena and the Chief and Cally go on a double date and she makes an annoyed Athena repeat the news three times before she's convinced the world isn't coming to an end all over again. "Do you mind watching the kids?" Athena asks as a means of changing the subject, and Kara manages a nod but can't hide the huge bubble of laughter that erupts from her belly. She can hear the Starbuck giggle in it and it only makes her laugh harder, so hard tears spring from her eyes, because she's supposed to be enduring hell on earth but she can tell Athena's going through the same thing from the miserable expression on her face. "It's not that funny," she says, but in only makes Kara double over with laughter and soon Athena's laughing along too.

It's so much like old times, Boomer and Kara getting into trouble and laughing their way out of it, that it makes Kara cry harder and for entirely different reasons because Athena's moved beyond that place. She has a family and a life and she's making amends, and Kara can't even be in the same room with Lee or Sam without feeling like everything she has is falling apart around her. "Oh, honey," Athena says and wraps her in her arms as best she can, the enormous mound of Kara's belly forming a wall between them. "It will be okay, you know that," she croons and Kara knows it has nothing to do with looking after two babies on her own.

Kara remembers when Helo found her crying in her locker and the shame that coursed through her that someone could see the mighty Starbuck in a moment of weakness. This time, she doesn't hesitate to curl into Athena and sigh as her hands rub the tired muscles of her back and she brushes her hair from her brow the way she wishes her mother always would have.

When they break apart Helo is holding Hera in his arms and telling Sharon that it's time to go, and he hands his daughter to Kara, smiling when she sits comfortably on the mound of her belly. "Take a picture," Kara snits. "It'll last longer."

Helo just ruffles her hair while Sharon searches for her purse. "You just wait a couple months, Kara. You'll realize what you're missing."

Kara nods along and wishes them a goodnight, and as she closes the door behind them she catches a glimpse of herself and Hera in the mirror. Hera looks nothing like Lee or Sam or herself, but it doesn't stop her from running a protective hand through the little girl's curls or pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. When Cally and the Chief drop off Nicky she finds herself barefoot, with her hair down, and baby on each hip. She has to laugh at the picture, because Zak used to tease her about their marriage and the life she'd live, barefoot and pregnant and turning out meals, and happier than she could ever imagine. She glances in the mirror again, and for a moment, just a moment, she thinks she could get used to the weight of babies in her arms with their fingers tangling in her too-long hair and their fresh, sweet smell clogging the air. She blinks, because it's only a vision, only someone else's life, and slips the babies into Hera's crib. They curl into one another, arms wrapping around each other like they aren't running for their lives and aren't only a few basestars too many from the world ending again, and she wonders if it's ever really that easy.

Kara clicks on the mobile and watches the vipers spin in easy circles, keeping watch on the future sleeping below. The thing in her belly kicks in time to the cycling vipers and it's a bit like being on CAP again, moving in slow, even rotations through the Fleet and keeping watch on the vestiges of humanity housed within. She drops a hand to the mound of her belly and watches the vipers spin and for a fleeting moment she thinks maybe she can do both, maybe she can save the world and herself at the same time. The mobile clicks off with a snap and the moment ends and all she sees are silent vipers and all she hears are sleeping innocents breathing below.

She turns the mobile back on and drops her hand. There's only room in her life for one kind of hero, and the needs of many always have to come before the needs of one.

**EIGHT and 1/2**

Baltar's trial moves forward and Lee goes along with it. He starts running security, but by week's end he's wrangled a spot on Baltar's defense team and spends his time trying to save the traitor's life.

Kara itches to give him a piece of her mind and ream him out for defending a man who destroyed humanity, but that would involve talking to him and that's something she and Lee no longer do. He shows up at every doctor's appointment and stands on the other side of the bed from Sam, keeping his eyes averted while Doc Cottle rattles off statistics and gives them updates on the baby's progress. There isn't the bitter burn of New Caprica, but the wounds are reopened and deeper and they don't sting as much but she's not sure they'll ever fully heal. She knows she made the right decision, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

She's in her eighth month and Doc Cottle offers to tell them the sex of the baby, like he's done for the two months before, and Sam jumps at the opportunity. He still believes he can change her mind, that the baby will be born and wear the name Anders and they can raise it the way people did before the world ended. Lee doesn't fight her and doesn't speak a word of protest, because Sam might know more about her but Lee knows her better and knows the only person who can change her mind is herself.

Lee speaks for the first time of the entire session, and declines the offer. "No," he says and looks her dead in the eye. That bitter fire lurking in his father's a few weeks before has reappeared in his, and he keeps all that anger focused on her. "What's the point? No reason in finding out only to lose it all over again." Sam looks tempted to protest, but one glare from Lee silences him. "It's not worth it, Sam. Not when it isn't going to last."

He doesn't hide the way he's glaring at her, and she hates that it's like that long year of separation all over again, but she can take it because it means he's caring about something, anything, again. "I agree with Lee," she says and Sam looks a little betrayed. "I'd rather not know."

'You're the boss," Cottle sighs and turns off the monitor, looking disgusted with all three of them. "Now out, all of you. I have other patients to see."

Kara drags the gown down over her belly and shoos them both away while she dresses. It's nothing they haven't seen before, except it is, because they could both trace Starbuck's body in their sleep but neither of them knows the new Kara. Their mouths haven't trailed over newly plump cheeks and their palms haven't closed around breasts twice their previous size and their stomachs haven't pressed up against the constantly changing weight she carries in her belly. They might have known her, but she doesn't think they know her now.

When she pulls back the curtain they're watching each other, arms crossed and stances rigid, and they look a little like twins with their matching blue eyes and civilian clothes. She almost doesn't recognize Lee outside his dress blues or the dueling tanks of the daily uniform and he looks uncomfortable in worn jeans and button down shirt as he shifts in place, like he's trying to get comfortable in his new skin. She knows the feeling, because she wakes up every morning and tries to find her footing in a body that no longer feels like her own.

She's tells herself that she's more comfortable with her decision as the end inches closer because she watches the way Athena and Cally watch their babies, and she's not sure she'll ever manage a look of her own. She's never done anything half ass in her life and she's not a quitter, but she knows not to get ahead of herself and start something she can't finish. She only has to look at the burning in Lee's eyes, the yearning in Sam's, to recognize her own failures. She can't bring a life into the world without promising it what's left of the future and knowing she'll see it through with every breath she has left.

She tells herself that Kara Thrace is growing up because she's finally thinking of someone beyond Kara Thrace. She looks at Lee and Sam and what she's done to them, and she knows it's no longer about what she wants. She's had her fun and she's had her time to put Kara Thrace first; it's time to do the same for someone else.

She tells herself it's for the best as she ignores the pleading in Sam's eyes and the hope hidden behind the pain in Lee's and the longing in her own heart. She tells herself it's okay that her life isn't something she recognizes because it means the thing in her belly has a shot at the life she always wanted to live. She tells herself that her life has changed but she can get back to the person she used to be; she ignores the thumping in her belly and how deeply she knows that her life will never be the same again.

---

Lee says goodbye and Sam takes her arm and tells her he'll walk her home. She wants to protest, but she's too tired and she's too worn out and she's missing her old life too much to push away the person who still loves her. She slips her hand in his and he smiles at her and it's almost like old times, smoking and drinking and flirting in the New Caprican dirt. A memory flashes through her mind, hands and skin and sweat and Sam's mouth pressing wetly and moaning "I love you" against her throat. It's been a long time since anyone has loved her that way.

She watches the straight line of Lee's back make its way down the causeway and notes the new assurance in his step as he moves closer to Baltar. He needs it, she thinks, as she follows Sam to her private quarters. She ignores the jealousy that flares in her gut because Lee's found something that makes him happy and gives him purpose while everything she wants is there for the taking and she can't seem to reach it.

Sam asks her yet again to take a leave of absence and for the first time she agrees. He stands blinking in front of her, and she can see him rewinding the speech he had prepared, because he never expected her to say yes on the first try. She doesn't explain and he doesn't pry, and she holds his hand the entire shuttle trip to the Rising Star. She watches the CAP spiral by and the Fleet's lights dance from ship to ship, and tries to ease herself into normal. Her old life meant laughing with Sam and playing house in the mud and building a new future from the ashes of the old one. She has three weeks to go and her life will be hers again, and it will be time to build anew. She's always been one to get a head start.

---

Her first night with Sam is not unlike the early days on New Caprica. Everything is familiar but different, and the air smells more like freedom and less like war. The people wear civvies and talk in slang she hasn't heard since her training days back on Picon. People wave to Sam and he introduces her as his wife, and everyone murmurs congratulations as they shake her hand. She smiles and plays along and she's surprised at how naturally she falls into the role of Mrs. Anders, but soon realizes that if she could fool the people who love her most at playing indulgent mother, she can easily play the loving wife among strangers.

"What do you think?" Sam asks as he shows her to his cabin. It's tiny and cramped but as a favor to the Admiral and his role in the resistance, it's all his. There's a woven blanket on the bed and the walls are painted a pale yellow and it's the first time she's ever set foot in the room and it looks and feels more like a home than any place she's ever lived.

"It's beautiful," she smiles at her husband and blinks away visions of Sam holding a baby in his arms and rocking it to sleep and the way a viper mobile will spark beams of light off the sunny walls.

"Maybe you'll move over here someday?" he asks and she stiffens in his arms while he keeps holding her close. She tries to wriggle away but he knows her too well and holds on tight because he isn't ready to let her go. "It's just an idea. Think about it."

She reminds herself that a new lease on life means starting over and starting fresh. Her husband falls back on the bed and the light reflecting from the walls catches golden strands in his hair and he smiles at her like he'll wait forever because he will.

"I'll think about it," she says and she means it, she really does. Sliding through the tubes in her viper used to be her life but she's gone without it for almost nine months and still managed to save the world once or twice. She smiles against her husband's mouth as he rises up to meet her and she thinks maybe she can make this work.

---

Her first night she watches what's left of the Buccaneers take on a straggler team from Aquaria. They win, easily, and Kara cheers from the bleachers and lets out a blaring whoop when Sam scores the winning goal. She tells herself it's like being back on New Caprica again; she ignores that she's sitting on the sidelines while Sam's having all the fun.

Afterwards she joins Sam and the rest of the team for a victory celebration in the guards' mess hall. There's ambrosia to go around and even a couple bottles of the Chief's finest that Sam smuggled off Galactica, and she watches the players drink and cheer while she sips a glass of water. They play rounds of Triad and drinking games she hasn't enjoyed since her rookie days and she smiles benignly and tries to remember how this was ever her life. It seems so far away, when she could – literally – drink her husband under table and easily defeat any challenger that came along next. She listens to the rounds of gossip about people she doesn't know, and smiles politely while Sam and his friends complain about endless shifts and bad water pressure and coffee shortages and all the tenants of a life that isn't hers. She thinks back, to the day she met Sam, and all she can remember is pyramid and booze and his tongue twisting around hers as he laid her down and slipped his hands under her shirt. She remembers the day she brought him home, and the day after that, ambrosia and laughter and sex in the sunlight, and she can't remember much else.

She sips her water and watches Sam match Jean shot for shot until the redhead throws her hands in the air and her forehead lands on her crossed forearms with a resounding thump. One of the others carts Jean off to bed and Sam keeps the ambrosia flowing and his grin widens and his eyes go soft, and he mumbles something to her about it being like old times. She smiles into a sloppy kiss and agrees because it's what he wants to hear and after all she's done, he deserves to be happy for once; she ignores the nagging feeling that without all the things that used to make up their old life, there's nothing linking them together any longer.

Sam is sober the next morning and shows her around his ship and she laughs at his rigid posture in his Colonial Guard uniform. He doesn't look much like Sam but he looks like the people she left on Galactica, and she thinks she could get used to it. She spends most of the day sleeping to avoid wondering how things are going on back home. She knows they can live without her for a few days and Gaeta can hold down the fort on his own, but she can't ignore the restlessness in her limbs and the nervous tremor that runs through her fingers; they might be able to live without her, but she's not sure she can live without them.

Sam comes home and strips out of his uniform and looks like himself again and spends the night getting to know the new Kara. She's never bothered before, but she asks him to dim the lights because she still can't look at her new body head-on in the mirror and she's not sure she wants to see the look in Sam's eyes when they lock on the rounded belly and newly defined curves. He obliges and strips off her clothes in the darkness, and its awkward because he used to know her body blind, but his fingers trip over the hem of her sweatshirt catching on the rise of her bellybutton. She can't remember a time when he's been so gentle, so slow, and smiles when she remembers how many times she had to put in a request for new gear because they'd ripped apart a shirt or pants in their haste to touch skin to skin.

It's different tonight, nothing like any of the times before, and when Sam lays her down and slides in next to her his skin feels different against hers and it's nothing like old times. Her body doesn't fit with his, and his chest bumps against hers and his hands feels rough against her skin. Everything about her is different and he hasn't been there to see it, and even when his tongue slides over familiar places she doesn't sigh and hook a leg over his knee and pull him closer. She shifts and wills herself back to New Caprica and the sunlight stretching tightly over her bare skin as she stares into the love reflected in her husband's eyes. If he notices he doesn't say anything, just trails his tongue lower and shifts his hands higher and mumbles "I love you" against the bulging mound of her belly.

Tears spring in her eyes because this is how it's supposed to be, a husband and wife and the child they created together, but she's Kara Thrace and nothing in her life has ever gone as planned. They're a husband and wife and but the child between them is visiting on borrowed time. When she brought Sam back from Caprica and kissed him on Galactica, this wasn't the future she'd intended for them.

The bed is large and without the restrictions of a military rack but it's hard to find the right position. She weighs more and her body is a different shape and Sam seems weirded out about having sex with two people at once. She's not sure how she feels about it either but the thing in her belly is thankfully silent and it's been forever since she and Sam have done what they do best, and she tells him that if he's willing to try she'll make the effort too. They shift and move around, but even when they finally find the right fit and he moves inside her, something feels off. She tries to blame it on the thing in her belly, but with the exception of the added weight it's like its not even there. She tries to blame in on the long separation, but she hadn't seen him in months and had thought he was dead before their Galactica reunion and then it had been like water falling over rock – just that easy.

She takes herself back to that magical night, when Sam was hers and warm and alive and whole, and she'd wrapped herself around him in officers' quarters that housed her life. Except Lee pops into the memory, the tight smile curving his lips when he met the man she chose over him, and the surprise and annoyance ringing his eyes when her own jealousy had emerged in her drunken stupor because he had Dee and no longer needed her. She pushes away awkward reunions and sighs against Sam's neck and thinks of New Caprica and the long, heated nights they spent getting to know each other. She feels the night breeze cooling her flushed cheeks, moans as the wet heat of her body slides against his under the stars, but when she comes apart in his arms, the bulge of her belly flush against the hard planes of his abdomen, it's Lee's voice that moans in her ear.

Her eyes slam open and she's staring into her husband's bright blue eyes and he's smiling at her as a bead of sweat drips down his temple, and looking at her as if the last seven months and the year before never happened. "I missed you baby," he whispers against her neck and he kisses her like all is forgiven.

If only she could forgive herself so easily.

She takes deep, gulping breaths as she orders her heartbeat to right itself and her world to return to normal. She's with her husband, with Sam, trying to make things right and make up for a year of betrayal. She wills herself back to New Caprica, to the life she and Sam were building away from Galactica and its memories, but all she sees is Lee laughing in the sunlight and Lee dancing in the twilight and Lee declaring his love in the biting night air. She pushes the memory away before her own declarations ring through her ears. She went to New Caprica because she'd thought the fight was over and the world was safe again and she deserved a time to enjoy the future she'd saved. She has to wonder now, after she's lived it all, if she went to New Caprica to start fresh, or if it was ever about anything but running from Lee.

"Kara, baby?" Sam croons in her ear and his hands run over the huge expanse of her belly. The thing inside is silent for once, like it's finally giving her some privacy and a break from the incessant thumping, but it's the one time she doesn't want to be alone. Sam's fingers lock over the push of her bellybutton and he breathes her in. "We should stay like this forever. I want to be a family Kara."

"Sam," she sighs and twists out of his arms, away from the body that doesn't mesh with hers anymore. "You're not going to change my mind."

It's his turn to sigh and he runs a hand through sweaty hair so it stands up in spiky peaks. She wants to laugh, because it's so cute and endearing and _Sam_, but she bites her lip to keep it from bumbling up and out and bringing with it the unpredictable emotions that keep escaping from her chest these days. "Kara, why won't you even consider it?" he pushes. "We can do this."

She shakes her head, wishes for Lee's heated anger rather than Sam's constant protests. It hurts and it burns but she understands it because it comes from a place she recognizes. She thinks of Lee curled in his rack, brought back to a life he didn't want. "I didn't want to make it back alive," he'd whispered into the air and she'd felt the breath catch in her throat because she couldn't imagine saving the world without Lee by her side. She couldn't imagine the world at all without Lee. She feels his mouth against hers when she'd kissed him and burned for Sam and his fingers threading through hers as she sank down around him with the stars twinkling above. She feels the emptiness she filled with Sam after she left him in the shadows of her dream house and the heaviness inside her that he might have created.

She looks at her husband who loves her but has yet to understand her. "Sam, I can't do this." She thinks of the stories she's told him, about her mother and the fingers that never splay straight against the muscles of his chest, and she wants him to understand, needs him to understand what she can't say out loud. She's never breathed a word of her past to Lee and he's never pushed her; Sam knows everything and he has yet to open his eyes.

"Okay, okay," he sighs because he knows arguing is futile and pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder. Her cheek still fits neatly in the crook of his neck and she closes her eyes, holds her arm to his so their wings meet. He rests one palm on the bulging mound of her belly and says goodnight, to both of them.

He smells like promises and she breathes him in and he fills her up. She holds on tight because she isn't ready to let go.

**EIGHT AND 3/4**

The trial continues and she never sees Lee and falls further away from Sam. He comes to visit every week, but she doesn't go back to the Rising Star and she tries not to think about the promises she made over there, because she said she'd think about it but even watching the monotony of the CAP circling through the Fleet makes her happier than watching Sam win at Pyramid and score big at Triad.

They don't talk about it either, the family he wants and she knows she can't have, but it hangs between them the way her growing belly pushes them further apart when he holds her close. They can't seem to get it right, fitting together back to chest in the confines of her quarters, but they keep on trying because it's all they have left. He crosses his hands over the mound of her belly while his chest settles against the new padding around her shoulder blades, but the thing in her belly remains silent the way it always does around him. She tries not to look for hidden messages or slips of fate because she doesn't believe in destiny, not when it comes from Leoben's machine-addled brain, but she can't ignore the way it acts as if Sam isn't even there.

"The kid's giving us some alone time," Sam whispers into her hair and she murmurs agreement because she can't explain to him that she hasn't been alone in almost nine months. It used to be Kara Thrace against the world and now it's Kara Thrace plus one and she kind of likes the strength in numbers.

She tells herself it's good that she's learning to be a team player because she'll be an even better pilot when she's back in her bird and training new nuggets how to save the world. She ignores the way her heart skips a beat because on her own she's no longer sure which world is worth saving.

---

A couple days before her due date the thing in her belly is kicking up a storm and she's half convinced it's trying to tell her something with all that beating, so she retreats to the observation deck for a quick look. Nicky has learned to sleep through the night and Cally spends those long hours wrapped up in her family, but she still spends most of her evenings watching the CAP circle by and thinking about what used to be, what will be in a few weeks' time. She sits on the stairs with her belly resting on her knees and her arms wrapped around its weight and sometimes, because she knows no one is listening and everyone else wouldn't believe it even if someone were, she talks to the thing in her belly and explains what's going on in the great beyond.

She talks about the vipers and the pilots and the different maneuvers they pull to break up the boredom, and she talks about training on Caprica and flight school on Picon and about Zak and Lee and the Admiral and life before the world ended. She won't be there to set the stories straight, but she wants the thing in her belly to know there was a world before blood and death and running for their lives, so if – when – they find Earth it will know what to expect. She talks about the people in her life and way Hera laughs when Helo tickles her belly and Nicky's eyes crinkle when the Chief wags his tongue and the way Athena and Cally are struggling to get along because their kids are friends and their husbands kind of like each other and there's no room in what's left of their world for grudges and revenge. She never talks about herself because there's nothing worth knowing about Kara Thrace except she carried a life in her belly for nine months and gave it a shot at living with people who know what happiness truly is.

Hot Dog is on duty tonight and has been practicing barrel rolls and she has a whole list of critiques ready to share with the thing in her belly, but when she steps into the observation deck she isn't alone.

Lee is sitting on the lowest tier, his suit jacket cast over a nearby chair, and his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows. He's no longer a pilot either but there's still a military precision in the straight slant of his back and the moonlight brings out the coiled muscles in the forearms resting on his knees. She doesn't have to look away because those muscles still do things to her, but it's too late to change her fate.

He doesn't see her and he doesn't appear to hear her either. It's the first time she's been alone with him in months and a million things are running through her brain, but she can't think of a single thing to say. She wants to yell at him for leaving her on her own because he's Lee and she's Kara and he's supposed to be her friend and hold her up even when she cuts him to the bone. She wants to ream him out for his role in Baltar's trial and the verdict that will be handed down in the morning and change the shape of their future. She wants to tell him that she misses him but she's not ready to hear that he doesn't miss her back.

She thinks she should say something mean and cutting, like Starbuck would, but her energy level is seriously depleted these days and she doesn't think she can manage to keep putting up the front. She chooses to keep it simple instead. "Hi," she says and ignores how strangled her voice sounds. After all she's done to him over the past few months, she can take a little embarrassment.

He looks up and his eyes lock on the belly that rests on eyelevel with his face. "Hi," he says in return and his voice is just as strangled and she feels a bit better because they're on equal footing with the awkwardness.

"Can I sit?" she asks and gestures to the spot next to him on the stairway.

"Yeah, of course," he returns and rises to help her. His fingers lock naturally around the sharp point of her elbow, and he eases her to the ground before sitting down beside her. He won't look at her and she can't look at him and the room is enormous but it feels like it's closing in on her with all the tension rising between them. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Ready for this to be over." His face tightens and she realizes the mistake she's made. "I'm just ready to see my feet again, you know?"

He nods and she looks away and concentrates on the CAP rather than focus on the awkwardness between them. The seconds tick into minutes and it doesn't get any better. She tells herself it's okay, that he's angry with her but he'll get over it and they'll go back into their uneasy rhythm like they have so many times before. Except this time he won't punch her for sleeping with someone who wasn't him, and even if he could she doesn't think she'd punch him back because she's tired of fighting. She's been fighting her entire life and she's won battles, but she knows she'll never win the war; she doesn't think she has it in her anymore.

"What do you want, Kara?" he finally asks and she snaps out of it long enough to catch the shining fury in his eyes.

"What?"

"Why are you here? What do you want from me? I've given you everything you asked and you just keep taking." He looks at her and there's something lost lurking in his eyes. "I don't have anything left."

She decides she's ready, because she's tired of moping and whining and Starbuck _is_ still buried somewhere inside. "I want to know what happened to you, Lee. Defending Baltar? What the frak is wrong with you?"

"He's a citizen of the colonies. He deserves a fair trail." His voice is flat and emotionless, like she's a reporter for the wire service and not the person who broke him over and over again.

She can't believe what she's hearing. "You have no idea what kind of person he is. He let innocent people die because the only thing that mattered to him was saving his own skin." Leoben dances before her eyes and she can feel his mouth on hers and his fingers tangling in her hair and the bile rises in her throat. "You have no idea what was going on down there because you were too busy enjoying your cushy ride and your hot wife to care about anyone else!"

The words slip out before she realizes what she's saying, and Lee's eyes take on a new level of rage. "Leave Dee out of this. You're mad at me? Fine. Be mad at me. Blame it all on me because you were stupid and you made a mistake and you refused to listen to anyone who tried to help. No one said this was going to be easy, Kara! It's not my fault you won't let anyone in."

"It's not who I am," she whispers and runs a hand through her hair. It's the same game they've been playing since they met: she pushes, he pushes back, and both of them retreat to their own corners to lick their wounds and prepare for the next round.

She knows this isn't about New Caprica or about the trial, not really, but her own decision and the consequences they're both living with. She's still no good at apologies but she can't take the pain Lee's eyes and with the new weight dragging her down she isn't sure she can bear any more burdens. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Lee," she manages to say. "It's just that…we're pilots. I don't think we're made for anything else."

He looks down at his civilian suit, the cast-off sweatshirt she's wearing. "I don't think either of us are pilots anymore." Outside Hot Dog puts in a good effort but his barrel roll makes her eyes bleed a little and Lee laughs. "Amateurs," he says because both of them could pull the same maneuver perfectly with their eyes closed and one hand tied behind their backs, and she laughs too because it no longer feels awkward and it's starting to feel more like old times.

"I don't like Baltar," Lee volunteers and it should feel weird, opening that can of worms again, but it just feels the way it used to when she could talk to him about anything and everything and know he was listening because she mattered to him. "I actually kind of hate him."

"And you're giving up your career to save his sorry skin. Time to jump off the pedestal, Lee."

"I mean what I said – he deserves a fair trial."

He looks right at her and the anger is gone from his eyes, but the challenge is still there, Apollo trying to one-up Starbuck, and she won't back down. "Why are you doing this?"

He won't look away and his eyes are the clearest, the most honest she can remember. "You told me to find something worth living for. I took you up on the challenge."

She laughs, again, but there's no humor in it. "So you're giving up everything you ever worked for to save Baltar?" She gestures to the huge mound of her belly. "If I could, I'd knock some sense into myself."

Lee's eyes lock on her belly again and something soft and warm creeps into his expression. "I'm doing this for you, you know." He reaches out and rests his hand over the swell of her belly and the thing inside kicks into his fingers like they belong there.

"What are you talking about?"

He turns away and looks out at the CAP spiraling though the sky, but he keeps his hand locked firmly against the tiny fist or foot beating against her skin. "There was this girl back on Caprica. Her name was Gianne. I was going to marry her." A ghost of a smile creeps across his face, the kind of smile Kara's only seen reserved for her, and it hurts a little deep inside that there's someone else to affect Lee so deeply. "She died back on Caprica." Kara thinks she should maybe say she was sorry or extend her condolences, but it doesn't seem to be that kind of story and Lee keeps talking, eyes locked on the CAP, expression strained. "We were going to have a baby." His fingers flex against her belly but hold on like they won't let go. "I told her it was too soon, I wasn't ready. I could marry her but parenthood wasn't on the agenda yet." He pauses, swallows heavily. "I left for the decommissioning ceremony on Galactica and she stayed behind. We were going to take some time to think while I was gone, work things out when I got back. You know what happened next."

"Lee, I –"

"My father once said that it's not enough to survive, that we have to be worthy of survival, but what I did? What kind of world exists where a man walks away from his family just because he feels like it?" She flinches, even though she knows he isn't talking about her, even though she knows she made the right choice. "When my father asked me to run security for Baltar's trial, I knew I could make the world right again. We're running for our lives, but we have the chance to make a fresh start, to fix what we broke back on Caprica. I don't like Baltar and I don't have to like him. All I know is that I don't want another baby coming into a world that's so wrong. Freedom, equality, justice…those are things we can have now. We get to start over." He pauses, and takes her hand so it rests under his over the mound of her belly. "Kara, I know you don't want this, but that hasn't stopped it from happening, and in a couple days, it's not going to stop a new life from entering the world. I just wanted to do my part to make that world whole again."

She blinks because she can feel tears pricking the backs of her eyes because she knows Lee's right. It's all she's ever wanted during these long months of hell, to carry the thing in her belly to term and give it a shot at a life filled with things she'll never have and she'll never know. She remembers the broken expression in Lee's eyes the night he confessed to giving up, and she sees the peace in them now because he's found a way to make a difference, the way they used to when they were pilots, the way she's being trying to do all these months since. "Aww, Lee. Aren't you the one who always says there's no such thing as bright, shiny futures?

He smiles and squeezes her hand. "I said they're overrated. I never said that they don't exist."

She squeezes his hand in return and blinks back the tears. "Look at us. I don't know who we are anymore. You used to be the CAG and I used to be your hotshot problem pilot, and now we're just a couple washed up viperjocks whining about what used to be."

He reaches up and wipes the tears from her eyes. "We'll be okay. It's only the court system that took a beating. You think my dad will turn down his best pilots?"

Kara groans. "Am I gonna have to grovel?"

He tilts her chin so he's looking right at her and she freezes because she sees love staring back at her. "All you have to do is smile, Kara, and he'll do whatever you want." It remains unsaid that the same goes for his son, so she smiles and his mouth presses gently against hers and it feels exactly like old times. She remembers the night she came back from Caprica with the future clasped to her back, and Lee told her he loved her and promised to catch her when she fell. "It's not over, Kara," he whispers against her lips. "I'll always be there for you."

"No takebacks," she insists and he kisses her again, soft and gentle, just the way she remembers.

"No takebacks."

They pull apart and she rests her head in the crook of his neck and it's something they've never done before but she still fits just right. They watch the CAP, hands locked over her belly, and she thinks she sees them a little bit down the road, saving the world and saving each other.

**NINE**

Two days before her due date Kara falls in the shower during an FTL jump. There's a water shortage onboard and the pipes to her quarters are turned off until the problem is fixed, and she tell herself it's because she isn't used to the pilots' head anymore. She refuses to question why it happened but still spends a full thirty seconds laying on the cold tile, legs splayed awkwardly, before she can haul herself into a sitting position while the world slowly rights itself. Her bum knee hurts like hell, and she whimpers a little as she draws up her legs to rest against the massive mound of her belly.

It's not until a strong hand locks around her bicep and pulls her up, bare feet skidding across the wet tile, that she realizes something's wrong.

Lee's standing in front of her, eyes searching her face, and he plants a hand on either hip to hold her steady. His fingers just brush the stretched skin housing the thing in her belly that isn't kicking anymore. Her eyes go wide and his expression changes, concern creeping across his features. "Kara, are you okay?"

She presses frantic hands to her belly, takes his hands and presses too, and the concern on his face evolves into full-on panic when he sees the expression on hers. Her belly is quiet, mercifully quiet for the first time in weeks, but it's no longer what she wants. The tears start to fall and she doesn't bother to blink them away. "Oh, gods, Lee. I need help." She runs her hand over her belly again and the thing inside doesn't rise up to meet her. "I need help."

* * *

Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time. 


	6. Part III A: Love, love is a verb

**Title:** "The Weight is A Gift"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating:** PG-13

**Character/Pairing:** Kara, Kara/Lee, Kara/Sam

**Spoiler:** "Crossroads: Part II"

**Length:** Part III: A of III

**Summary:** Everyone has to grow up sometime, even Kara Thrace

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note, Part I:** Oh my gods, it's been forever, hasn't it? I haven't abandoned this story, just had a major bout of disinterest that set in once the season ended. Not writer's block per say but more a mixture of the two. Either way I've found the time and commitment to see this fic through the way I wanted, and provide the proper sendoff for Starbuck and her boys. Bear in mind, I have no personal experience with pregnancy or motherhood, so please forgive any mistakes I make in my description of Kara's baby's birth. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

She remembers bits and pieces of those long minutes before her daughter makes her way into the world, snapshots of moments in time before the life she thought had already changed stopped being anything close to a world she recognizes. 

She remembers the cold air blasting over her bare skin as Lee's feet pounded through the causeway, her blood seeping out at the same steady rhythm. She remembers spotting a spare towel out of the corner of her eye, and the bright red stains that stood out against the dingy white of the faded cotton. She remembers that she wanted to laugh, because that towel had previously clung to the contours of Lee's hips and she could see the way the nuggets' eyes widened as they rounded on their very naked former CAG sprinting through the halls with a fallen pilot in his arms, and she thinks she would have laughed if the blood marring the otherwise pristine fabric of that towel hadn't been her own.

More than anything else, she remembers the screaming, echoing off the cold metal walls of the causeway and catching in her hair and singeing her skin as Lee sprinted towards her one chance at salvation. She's waited too long for this moment, given too much and lost more of herself than she cares to admit, and she isn't ready for it to end. Not like this, not in a rush of blood and guts that spill across the sterile metal of Galactica like a river of regret. She knows, buried in the place where Starbuck still lives, that even if she never wanted it to happen in the first place she's come too far to lose it all.

The screams ring in her ears and Lee winces as his feet continue to storm the causeway, but they keep her going because they let her know, through the fog of pain and fear, that she cares where this story is heading. They let her know that she's Kara Thrace and she always chooses her own ending.

-----

Doc Cottle is primed and ready to go when Lee spills into the med-bay, the trail of sticky, coppery red an early alert that something, somewhere, was going wrong. His eyes roll skyward as beads of moisture drip from the former CAG's wet hair and pool at his feet, mixing with the blood, watering it down, cleaning the mess without even trying. Out of the corner of her eye Kara sees someone hand him a pair of scrubs and he's Lee and there to catch her when she falls, and he manages to slide them on without releasing his grip on her hand.

The blood continues to seep in a steady drip-drop to the beat of her heart, to the beat of both their hearts. The doc doesn't wait to find out what's wrong, because it's almost too late and life is too precious in what's left of their world. She sees the wink of a blade as Ishay slides a needle through the thin skin of her wrist, and she closes her eyes because she can't watch this part.

When Zak died, it felt like the weight of his viper was resting on her chest, a mass of guilt and regret and love that pressed against her lungs and corded through her veins and made her believe her sin was so great she'd never breathe easy again. Her only consolation was she didn't see it happen, never watched as his viper tore apart in the empty expanse of space, never saw the flames sear through muscle and bone and heart and soul and destroy the one person who loved her the way she never thought she should be loved. When she closed her eyes and her breath rasped through her lungs, pressed against the weight of the mistake resting on her chest, she imagined Zak breathed his last breath with a smile on his face and never knew the end was coming. As the doc slices through the weight of her belly and the thing inside fights to breathe its first breath, she keeps her eyes closed and lets the story play out on the blank canvas behind her eyelids.

In her mind, she chooses the ending she wants. In her mind, she'll breathe easy when this experience draws to a close. In her mind, Starbuck roams and Starbuck won't let go without a fight. In her mind, this story has a happy ending, the only happy ending she's ever known. It's what she wants and it's what she's going to get because she's Kara Thrace – she won't accept anything else.

-----

When she finally opens her eyes she blinks against the bright florescent glow of the lights, and squeezes one hand and then the other, just to see if Lee is still hanging on. He smiles at her as he brushes sweaty bangs from her forehead. "You're doing great," he says and his smile shakes, just the tiniest bit. He tries to hide it, but he's Lee and she knows his face as well as she knows her own, and she squeezes again to let him know that even though she's the one with a huge gaping hole in her belly, she's there for him too.

His eyes never leaves hers as the doc slices and dices, and he continues to murmur words of encouragement and progress, his fingers smoothing her hair with a gentle, tender touch. She keeps her fingers locked with his, holding on tight, refusing to let go. In the background she hears the doc calmly relaying instructions to Ishay and the steady beat of the heart monitors thumping through the room, but all she can feel is Lee's steady presence hovering around her, his voice crooning softly in her ear and his breath gliding through her sweaty hair.

She has a memory, fighting against the images she spins in the world behind her eyelids, of life before the pain, before the screams, before she knew what hell could be. She's five-years-old and she's riding her first bicycle and her daddy is running beside her, his feet falling into a steady rhythm to the whir of the wheels. They coast up a hill and he lets go and she's flying, coasting over the pavement while her braids soar in her wake, and she's scared and she isn't ready but she doesn't give up. She pedals the way he taught her and she holds on tight and she doesn't let go and when the wheels reach level ground she's laughing from the rush of it all. Her daddy grinds to a halt beside her, his breathing uneven and sweat beading at his temples, but right next to her, still there beside her. She smiles because she did it on her own, but it helped just knowing he was there.

When the first cry pierces the air, shrill and high-pitched and unlike anything she's ever heard before, she still feels like she's flying because the weight is lifted.

She can't see much, because her legs are still numb and there's sewing to be done and the doc is blocking her vision, but she can feel Lee behind her, his breathing uneven and moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes, but right next to her, still there beside her.

He bends down, warm lips pressing against the sweaty skin of her brow, "It's a girl."

She laughs, because she knew it would be along. Her mother's words play in her head, "the gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children," and she flexes her free hand involuntarily, the uneven joints cracking as they settle into place. The cries fill her, the empty parts of what's left of her, and she knows the story ended the right way.

She sees the little feet kicking as Ishay cleans her up, and it reminds her of that day at the beach, fighting to win the race while the cramp held her back, Lee by her side the entire way through. Nine months are gone and the race is over, but the cries filling the room tell her she's won the prize. Nine months she's given up what she wants to give what's left of her world what it needs. Nine months she's watched her life shift from the only thing she's ever known and change, reshape, mold into something she never knew she was missing. Nine months she's carried this living, breathing, feeling being below her heart, nurturing it and protecting it and keeping it safe. Nine months she's been on the verge and just like that, like a viper exploding in the darkest recesses of space, it's over.

She feels tears pricking the backs of her eyelids and Lee's cool fingers sliding over them as he brushes the tears away. She grip his other hand like a lifeline, doesn't let go. Nine months she's shouldered this burden alone, but it helped just knowing he was there.

-----

In the end, she's the first to hold humanity's latest addition. There are only four of them in the med-bay room, five including the wailing, flailing being in Ishay's arms, but the doc needs those hands to put Kara back together. Kara can just see that pair of kicking feet as the doc arranges his instruments, tiny heels moving beneath the hem of a thin hospital blanket. Galactica isn't prepped to deliver babies, and the doc mutters to himself as he prepares for the final step. Kara knows it's all a show because like everyone else in the narrow room, he can't take his eyes off the squirming form Ishay is trying to hand off to Lee. It's not very often that the future is within reach, warm and soft and minutes old, and they're all taken away by the beauty of it.

"No," Lee protests, his free hand pressing outwards, pushing away from the future he's sacrificed so much to see live. "I can't." But he also can't keep his fingers from flexing, stretching, aching to touch what might be his, and he stuffs them in his pocket before he goes too far.

"Come on, Major," the doc encourages as he finishes gathering his instruments. "We're on a schedule here."

Lee shakes his head. "It's not fair to Sam." Kara's eyes are closed, but she can feel his burning through her skin, what he isn't saying resonating through her thoughts – that it isn't fair to any of them, the one who saw her born or the one who finished last because she no longer belongs to any of them.

Isahy turns to Kara, but she keeps her eyes closed because she doesn't want to look into that little girl's eyes and see what's staring back; because she _can't _look at Lee and see her regrets mirrored in his eyes. Ishay turns to the doc helplessly, not knowing what to do.

He scowls, Kara can see it through the veil of her eyelids, and curses under his breath. "Enough of this. We have work to do. Mom can hold her."

Kara's eyes shoot open and she struggles to push onto her elbows, but she still can't feel anything below her waist and she can't drag the weight. She would laugh, if she wasn't so close to crying, because if there's one thing she's an expert at, beyond shooting cylons out of the sky and barrel rolling like her life depends on it, because it sometimes does, is carrying the weight. Nine months and the only thing she's wanted is the burden to be lifted and it's finally here and she can't make it happen.

"No," she says, and it's the first time she's spoken in hours and her throat is dry and her voice cracks, breaks, over the words. "No frakkin' way."

"Sometimes you pull the low card, Captain," the doc says, an edge to his voice. "Buck up. Grow up. I can't wait any longer."

She doesn't have a choice. Sometimes the low card wins all, but not this time. She sucks in a breath and it tastes like New Caprica, metal and cages and cylon catching in her mouth. Leoben smiles at her and she shudders, but she remembers, the crunch of flesh and bone twisting beneath her fist and the light leaving his eyes as the breath rushed out of him. She got through it, she survived. She's Kara Thrace – surviving is what she does.

Her breath rushes out of her as closes her eyes but opens her arms and Ishay slips something warm and soft and _hers _into the crook of her elbow.

Lee's hand is still gripping hers, holding tight and firm and strong, but she keeps her eyes firmly closed and concentrates on the calm orders the doc issues to Ishay. As soon as she's sewn up, put back together like it never happened in the first place, the sooner her life can return to the way she always planned.

"Kara," Lee whispers against her hair. "Kara look, she's smiling." She's too young, Kara knows these things, and she tells Lee that he's lying, but he won't let it go because he's Lee Adama and seeing things through is as much a part of him as breathing. "Kara, I mean it. She's smiling. She's smiling right at you."

Kara doesn't want to, but she's Kara Thrace and sometimes she's still Starbuck and she's never backed down from a challenge in her life, and she counts to one, to two, to three, and when she opens her eyes she sees herself staring back within a pair of dark blue eyes. She sees the curve of her jaw and the slope of her nose and a hint of mischief sparking in the light of the little girl's eyes. She isn't smiling, because Kara was right and Lee was lying after all, but she's watching her with those wide blue eyes and even when Kara blinks wetly she doesn't let go. She's nestled in the crook of Kara's elbow and her forearm easily bears the weight, but as she continues to stare at her Kara feels something tight and hot pressing down on her chest.

It's not like last time. There's no guilt. There's no regret. There's only love.

**-----**

**Author's Note, Part II:** This chapter was intended to cover much more than it actually did, but when I tried to add other sections it just seemed very odd to include anything other than the immediate aftermath of the birth. For those concerned, the story isn't over yet and Kara hasn't made her decision, as to what she's doing with the baby or the final role her men will play in her life. Also, it may, okay totally does, provide my explanation of Kara Thrace's very special destiny. For those who have held on, thank you for waiting. This was by far the hardest section of the story to write, and part of the reason it took me so long was I wanted to get things just right. I'm never entirely satisfied with my finished product, but I think this will do. Thank you again.

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Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time. 


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